^Sc 



PS 635 
.Z9 
C8895 
Copy 1 



PRICE TWENTy.FIVE CENTS 




WHERE THE LAW 
TURNED 

A RURAL COMEDY DRAMA 



BY 



FLORENCE A. COWLES 



N>XM 









11 


§ 









£7^ 
T^^ 















DICK & FITZGERALD 

PUBLISHERS 

i8 Ann Street, New York 
























XA^ 
"^V^ 



PLAYS FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS ONLY 

J5 CENTS EACH 

r 

CRANFORD DAMES. 2 Scenes; 114 hours 8 

GERTRUDE MASON, M.D. 1 Act; 30 minutes 7 

CHEERFUL COMPANION. 1 Act; 25 minutes 2 

LESSON IN ELEGANCE. 1 Act; 30 minutes 4 

MAIDENS ALL FORLORN. 3 Acts; 1^ hours 6 

MURDER AVILL OUT. 1 Act; 30 minutes 6 

ROMANCE OF PHYLLIS. 3 Acts; 1^ hours 4 

SOCIAL ASPIRATIONS. 1 Act; 45 minutes 5 

OUTWITTED. 1 Act; 20 minutes 3 

WHITE DOVE OF ONEIDA. 2 Acts ; 45 minutes 4 

SWEET FAMILY. 1 Act; 1 hour 8 

BELLES OF BLACKVILLE. 1 Act; 2 hours 30 

PRINCESS KIKU. (S 5 cents) 13 

RAINBOIV KIMONA. (S5 cents.) 8 Acts; IJ^ hours 9 

MERRY OLD MAIDS. (35 cents.) Motion Song 11 

PLAYS FOR MALE CHARACTERS ONLY 

J5 CENTS EACH 

H 

APRIL FOOLS. 1 Act; 30 minutes 3 

BYRD AND HURD. 1 Act; 40 minutes 6 

DARKEY WOOD DEALER. 1 Act; 20 minutes 3 

AVANTED, A MAHATMA. 1 Act; 30 minutes 4 

HOLY TERROR. 1 Act; 30 minutes 4 

MANAGER'S TRIALS. 1 Act; 1 hour 9 

MEDICA. 1 Act; 35 minutes 7 

NIGGER NIGHT SCHOOL. 1 Act; 30 minutes 6 

SLIM JIM AND THE HOODOO. 1 Act; 30 minutes 5 

WANTED. A CONFIDENtI^ CLERK. 1 Act; 30 minutes 6 

SNOBSON'S STAG PART^. 1 Act; 1 hour 12 

PICKLES AND TICKLES. 1 Act; 20 minutes 6 

HARVEST STORM. 1 Act; 40 minutes 10 

CASE OF HERR BAR ROOMSKI. Mock Trial; 2 hours.... 28 

DARKEY BREACH OF PROMISE CASE. Mock Trial. 22 

GREAT LIBEL CASE. Mock Trial; 1 Scene; 2 hours 21 

RIDING THE GOAT. Burlesque Initiation; 1 Scene; IJ^ hours 24 

DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers, 18 Ann Street, N. Y. 





WHEEE THE LANE 
TUKNED 



A Rural Comedy Drama in 
Four Acts 



By FLORENCE A. COWLES 



Copyright, 1912, by Dick & Fitzgerald 



NEW YORK 

DICK & FITZGERALD 

18 4NN STREET 



Note.— The professional acting rights of this play are 
expressly reserved by the publishers, to whom theatrical 
managers who wish to produce it should apply. Amateur 
representation may be made without such application and 
without charge. 

WHERE THE LANE TURNED 



CHARACTERS 

Caleb Brandon ^ f^,^^^ 

Mrs. Brandon jj^^ ^.y^ 

Jasper Fernley ^ mUlionavre 

Laura Fernley ; His daughter 

4;^^^i? Laura's maid 

Dr. Roger Austin The physician 

Sir Blashington Ingleby An Englishman 

Mrs. T. a. Smythe a summer boarder 

iHOMAs Algernon Smythe jj^^ ^^^ 

Vincent Grafton \ ^.A scoundrel 

Speedmore Gassaway A chauffeur 

Joyce Carmody a trained nurse 

Time. — The present. 

Locality.— Near Hartford and New York City 

Time of Playing.— Two hours. ; 



SYNOPSIS 

r^tZl'^f^"^"^'^'^^^^^^^^ ^"S- T^^^^s <>bjects to Al- 
gernon and expresses his views on matters. The accident 

TMPS2-00894S 

©Cl.D 30428 



Where the Lane Turned 3 

to the motor car and Mr, Fernley's hurt. What Bran- 
don would have done. Gassaway tells what happened. 
Brandon relates what he knows of Fernley. Trained 
nurse arrives. Gassaway despondent. Joyce found at 
last. 

Act II. — Mrs. Brandon pestered half to death by 
reporters and the nurse. Home news. Joyce tries to 
forget the doctor. Grafton's confession and proposal 
to Joyce. Joyce refuses. Grafton's threats. Joyce 
explains how she became Grafton's wife. 

Act III. — Marie pares potatoes, and Gassaway makes 
hay and also love, and is sent to town for sewing materials. 
Mr. Smythe deals in stocks. Mrs. Brandon's little 
girl. Laura wants advice about Sir Blashington. 
Algernon still objects to his name, and exposes the fact 
that his father is dealer in live-stock. Sir Blashington 
proposes to Laura. Laura's reply. Fernley sends 
for Brandon and explains the situations of years ago. 
Joyce and the doctor have an interview. The intended 
kidnapping a failure. 

Act IV. — The Brandons visit New York, but long 
for the old farm. Fernley's investment for the account 
of Brandon and its result. Kov/ the Brandons deter- 
mine to use the fund. Laura's invitation. Tommie 
satisfied. Laura's wedding presents. 



COSTUMES 

Caleb Brandon. Acts I, II, and III. Every-day clothes 

of a farmer. Act IV. His ''best 

suit.'' 
Mrs. Brandon. Corresponding to above. 
Jasper Fernley. Act I. Motoring costume. Act III. 

Business suit. Act IV. Dress suit. 
Laura Fernley. Act I. Motoring costume, later pretty 

dresu Act III. Afternoon dress; 

should be same color as Mrs. 

Smythe's. Act IV. Evening dress, 

not too elaborate. 



Where the Lane Turned 



Marie. 



Dr. Austin. 



Act I. Very quiet motoring costume, 

changing to maid's costume, black 

gown, cap, apron, etc. Act IV. Any 

pretty dress. 
Act I. Motoring costume. Acts II 

and III. Business suit. Act IV. 

Dress suit. 
Sir Blashington. Act I. Motoring costume. Act III. 

Business suit. Act IV. Dress suit. 

He wears or dangles a monocle, and 

his clothes should be English in style. 
Acts I and III. Afternoon dress. 

Act IV. Evening dress, all as fussy 

and elaborate as possible. 
Clothing suitable for a boy of t\s^elve. 
Business suit. 
Act I. Motoring costume. Act III. 

Overalls, jumper, etc. Act IV. 

Business suit or motoring costume 

as preferred. 
Acts I, II, and III. Trained nurse's 

uniform. Act IV. Evenin.a: dress. 



Mrs. Smythe. 



Algernon 

Grafton. 

Gassaway 



Joyce Carmody. 



INCIDENTAL PROPERTIES 

Doctor's case and suit case for Algernon. Suit case 
and rake for Gassaway. Socks for Mrs. Brandon. 
Newspaper for Brandon. Phial for Grafton. Revolver 
for Joyce. Pan of potatoes and knife for Marie. Auto 
horn, off stage. 



STAGE DIRECTIONS 

As seen by a performer on the stage facing the audience, 
R. means right hand; l. bft hand; c. center of stage; 
D. c. door in center of rear flat; r. 1 e. and r. 2 e. right 
first and right second entrances, up means towards rear 
of stage; down towards footlights. 



WHERE THE LANE 
TURNED 



ACT I. 



Scene. — Sitting-room in the Brandon home. Doors r. 1 e. 
and R. 2 e., c. of rear flat and l. Sofa with pillows 
L. chairs R., L., etc., table up l. c, other suitable fur- 
nishings. Window L. DISCOVERED Mrs. Bran- 
don and Mrs. Smythe sitting l. and r. 

Mrs. Brandon. As I was sayin', Mrs. Smith — 

Mrs. Smythe. Smythe, if you please. 

Mrs. B. Oh, yes, Smythe. As I was sayin', Mrs. 
Smi — Smythe, I hope you're goin' to hke it, boardin' with 
us this summer. Of course, only gettin' here yesterday, 
you ain't had any chance to get acquainted yet, but when 
you do you'll find we've got some real pleasant neighbors. 
There's the Bancrofts, the Suttons, the Dunns — I did 
think the little Dunn boy would be company for your 
Tommie, but — 

Mrs. S. Algernon, if you please. 

Mrs. B. Algernon? 

Mrs. S. Certainly, that is my son's name. 

Mrs. B. Why, the Httle tyke! He told me his name 
was Thomas. 

Mrs. S. (reluctantly). Well — his first name is Thomas. 
You see, his father insisted on naming him after himself, 
Thomas A., A. for Azariah. Thomas Azariah! Ugh! 
Such a common, plebeian name, never heard in the best 
society. I was obliged to submit to the Thomas but I 
drew the line at Azariah. I said if it must be A. the A. 
should at least stand for something I wouldn't be ashamed 
to say in the best society. So his name is T. Algernon. 



6 Where the Lane Turned 

Mrs. B. Well now, Thomas Azariah has got a good, 
honest, sensible sound to it, seems to me. I'd sort of feel 
I could depend on a man named Thomas Azariah, while 
as for T. Algernon — well, as I was sayin', I expected 
Sammie Dunn would be company for — for your little boy 
but a month ago he dim' an apple tree and come down 
so much faster than he went up that he broke his leg, 
broke it so bad that the bones stuck out, and the Dunns 
had to have a trained nurse from Hartford to take care 
of him. And my sakes! Of all Mis' Dunn's been through 
with that young woman! I've lived neighbor to Sarah 
Dunn for twenty years, and I know her housekeepin' is 
clean and neat enough for anybody, but common ordinary 
cleanness ain't good enough for that nurse. Why, every- 
thing she uses around Sammie has to be boiled, even the 
scissors she cuts the thread she sews his bandages with. 
Oh, she's pleasant enough, but I wouldn't have her in 
the house for all the new Grange Hall cost. Howsomever, 
Sammie seems to be gettin' well real quick, in spite of her 
fussin'. 

Mrs. S. I am sorry for the child's accident, of course, 
but perhaps it is just as well so far as Algernon is con- 
cerned. I should be sorry to have him associate with any 
child who might possibly use language and expressions 
unsuited to the best society. (Mrs. B. looks indignant 
and is about to reply when — ) 

ENTER Algernon c. d. 

Algernon. Gee ! Ma, did you lamp the gas-wagon that 
just waltzed down the pike? She was the mustard all right, 
all right, huh? She flew a New York number, too, and — 

Mrs. S. Algernon! What in the world are you talking 
about? And how often have I told you not to call me ma, 
but mother? 

Alg. Aw, bubbles! You give me a pain, ma— mother. 
{Mimicking her) How often have I told you not to call 
me Algernon, but Thomas? 

Mrs. S. Your name is Algernon just as much as it is 
Thomas and I prefer Algernon. 



Where the Lane Turned 7 

Alg. Forget it! My name is Thomas just as much as 
it is Algernon, and I prefer Thomas. See? 

Mrs. S. {wiping her eyes). What have I ever done that 
I should have such a child? 

Alg. {hugging her) . Aw, turn off the water-works, ma — 
mother. I'm a lemon all right, but Fm soft on you. {To 
Mrs. B.) Say, Mrs. Brandon, ain't there any kids in this 
burg? 

Mrs. B. Why, I was just tellin' your ma — mother — 
that Sammie Dunn, the only boy that lives near here, 
is laid up with a broken leg. 

Alg. Just my fierce luck! Well, I got to start some- 
thing or bust. [EXIT c. d. 

Mrs. B. {aside) . Well, I guess Sarah Dunn would think 
it was just as well Sammie is laid up, too. That limb! 

Mrs. S. Dear Algernon is a little boisterous, but so 
affectionate. 

ENTER Caleb Brandon c. d. 

Brandon. Well, Mrs. Smith — 

Mrs. S. Smythe. 

Bran. — Smythe, that Tommie of yours — 

Mrs. S. Algernon. 

Bran. Algernon? He told me his name was Thomas. 

Mrs. S. {patiently). His name is Thomas Algernon, 
but he has a singular aversion to Algernon, a name suitable 
for a boy in the best society. 

Bran, (asic^e). Dunno as I blame him for that. {Aloud) 
Well, whatever his name is, I guess he'll keep things 
livened up around here this summer. Just asked me if it 
wa'n't kind of expensive to buy chewin' gum for all my 
cows. Haw! haw! haw! What say to that, mother? 

Mrs. B. {smiling). He'll know more about country 
things before he goes home. {Aside) And I guess we'll 
know more about boys before he goes home, too. 

ENTER Algernon c. d., much excited and puffing. 

Alg. Oh! Wow! Gee! Ain't it awful? 

Mrs. S. Algernon, what are you talking about? 



8 Where the Lane Turned 

Alg. (puffing). Why, the — the — the — accident! 

All. Accident! Where? Who? When? (Algernon 

py'ffs) 

Mrs. S. (shaking him). Algernon Smythe, why don't 
you speak? 

Alg. Ain't I tryin' to? How can I when you've got 
a Half-Nelson on me? I tell you there's been an awful 
accident. That big buzz-wagon that just sailed past here 
smashed up, down by the bridge; and I guess one guy's 
passed in his checks. They're bringin' him up here, anyway. 

Bran. What! 

[EXIT CD. hastily, Algernon following. 

Mrs. B. Bringin' him here? Then somebody must 
be hurt. What was that Tommie said about his checks? 
That boy might as well talk Chinese. 

Mrs. S. (with spirit). Algernon has been taught the 
choicest Enghsh. 

Mrs. B. Well, he must be too choice of it to use it 
common, then. (At window) Oh ! here they come ! Dear 
sakes! that poor man must be hurt dreadful! Caleb and 
three other men are carryin' him. And there's two girls. 
Dear, dear ! (She runs to couch and heats up pillows) 

Mrs. S. (nervously). The sight of blood always make 
me faint so perhaps I had better retire. [EXIT r. 2 e. 

Mrs. B. (opening door as tramp of feet is heard). Bring 
him right in here and lay him on the couch. The poor, 
poor man! Oh, I hope he ain't hurt very bad. 

Dr. Austin (outside). I trust not, madam, but we do 
not know yet. 

ENTER CD., Brandon, Gassaway, Sir Blashington 
Ingleby and Dr. Austin, carrying Jasper Fernley. His 
eyes are closed, his face ghastly white and he groans heavily. 
They lay him on couch. Algernon follows, carrying the 
doctor's case, then ENTER Laura Fernley and Marie. 

Laura. Oh, Father! Father! Tell me. Dr. Austin, is 
he dead? Oh, don't say it is as bad as that! (She kneels 
"Reside couch) 

Dr. a. (raising her). No, indeed. Miss Fernley, it is 



Where the Lane Turned 9 

not nearly so bad as that. Come, come, you must compose 
yourself and let me examine your father. (Laura goes r., 
where Mrs. B. a7id Marie brush and straighten her clothes, 
etc., Sir Blashington and Gassaway stand near head of 
conch and brush clothes, etc. Algernon stands up r. and 
stares. The doctor bends over Fernley and examines head, 
heart, pulse, etc. Brandon, who has been standing near 
foot of couch, turns and looks at Fernley, starts, leans 
7iearer, then goes down c. and stands rigidly, fists clenched. 
Mrs. B. watches him without seeming to) 

Bran. Jasper Fernley! In my house! And I helped 
to bring him here ! If I had seen his face before, I would 
have cut off my hand before I hfted it to help him. But 
it's not too late now; I'll turn him out, I'll — {Starts up l., 
then returns) No, no, I can't do that, even to him. The 
man's hurt, killed may be. I can't turn him out. But 
neither can I stay in the room with him. 

[EXIT l., quickly. 

Mrs. B. {to Laura). Are you hurt, my dear? 

Laura. No, I think not, only b^ly shaken and a 
little bruised. But I fell on my maid and I fear she is 
more badly hurt than I. How do you feel, Marie? 

Marie. Mademoiselle roll off so soon she fall on me, 
and she not veree heavee. But my arm he so bruise I 
not can him hft. 

Mrs. B. How did the accident happen? 

Laura. I hardly know, it was all so sudden. How 
did it happen, Gassaway? But wait {To Mrs. B.) I am 
forgetting that you do not know our names or anything 
about us. My father, who lies there, is Jasper Fernley 
of New York, and I am Laura Fernley. My father's health 
has been poor and we are on our way to spend the summer 
in Maine, going in the car by easy stages. Dr. Austin, 
our physician, is with us, and we have as our guest Sir 
Blashington Ingleby of London. {He bows stiffly) Then 
there are Speedmore Gassav/ay, our chauffeur, and Marie, 
my maid. Now, Gassaway, what went wrong? 

Gassaway. The brakes. Miss. When we struck the 
deep sand at the foot of that little hill the car slewed and 
the brakes wouldn't hold her. She caromed from one 



10 Where the Lane Turned 

side of the road to the other and just before we reached 
the bridge she struck a tree and lurched partly over the 
bank. Mr. Fernley was thrown out, down the bank and 
against another tree, but the rest of us fell out kind of 
easy-Hke. If we hadn't hit the tree we'd have struck 
the railing of the bridge and most likely gone into the 
river, car and all. 

Laura. Then we may be very thankful that it was 
no worse. 

Sir Blashington. Jolly thankful, bah Jove ! 

Laura (going l.). But oh, my father! my father! Can 
you not tell now. Dr. Austin, how badly he is hurt? 

Dr. a. (gravely). Miss Fernley, you must be brave, 
and prepare yourself for some bad news. Your father 
has sustained a broken leg and a fracture of the skull. 
There may be other injuries which time will show. Taken 
in connection with his already poor health this makes his 
condition very serious indeed. I do not wish to alarm you 
but it is best that you should know the truth. 

Laura. Oh! this is dreadful! He must be taken at 
once to the nearest hospital where he can have the best of 
care. How can — 

Dr. a. Miss Fernley, that is absolutely impossible. 
I will not answer for your father's life if he is moved farther 
than the next room inside of a month. 

SirB. Oh, I say! 

Laura. A month! But we cannot stay here and im- 
pose upon these kind people. 

Dr. a. Your father's hfe depends upon their hos- 
pitality. 

Mrs. B. Caleb Brandon's hospitahty wouldn't be 
refused to an injured dog, let alone a man. Of course 
he must stay and you too, my dear. I guess I can find 
room for your maid and the shuffler too, and the doctor 
and Lord What's-his-name can hkely get accommodated 
at the hotel in the village. Tain't more than a half a 
mile from here and they can come over as often as they 
want to. 

Laura. Oh, how good you are! How can I thank 
you? (She hursts into tears) 



Where the Lane Turned 11 

Mrs. B. There, there, don't talk about it. I guess 
your nerves is a mite out o' tune, and no wonder. 

Laura. Then Marie shall help you and I will nurse 
father; and perhaps Mr. Brandon can make Gassaway 
useful. (Marie and Gassaw^ay look disgusted) 

Dr. a. No doubt you can do much to assist in the 
care of your father. Miss Fernley, but to pull him safely 
through this will tax the skill of a good trained nurse. 
{To Mrs. B.) I suppose there is not such a person to be 
had nearer than Hartford? 

Mns. B. (hesitatingly). Why — why, yes, there is. Some 
neighbors of ours have had a trained nurse taking care 
of their little boy, and she was to leave to-morrow. I 
wouldn't wonder if you could get her. 

Dr. a. Good! That is very fortunate indeed. Now 
it will be best to move Mr. Fernley and get him to bed 
before he regains consciousness, (Aside) if he ever does. 

Mrs. B. Bring him right into this room; the bed is 
all made up. (She goes r.. Dr. Austin, Gassaway and 
Sir Blashington lift Fernley and carry him off r. 1 e.) 

Marie. Mademoiselle expect me to assist madame? 
I am not a cook, me. I return to New York. 

Laura. Oh, Marie, you won't desert me? I — I'll give 
you my blue silk dress if you'll stay. 

Marie. Ver' well, I stay — not for ze dress but because 
I lofe mademoiselle so mooch. 



ENTER Sir Blashington and Gassaway r. 1. e. 

Laura. Gassaway, will you go down to the car and 
bring up my suit-case and Marie's? 

Gas. Yes, miss. (To Algernon) Want to come 
along, kid? 

Alg. (eagerly). Bet your hfe. [EXEUNT c. d., Al- 
gernon and Gassaway. Marie goes to ivindoiv up l. 

Sir B. I say. Miss Fernley this is beastly bad luck 
and I'm no end sorry for you, don't you know. 

Laura. Thank you. Sir Blashington. But you need 
not feel that you must stay in the village, as Mrs. Brandon 



12 Where the Lane Turned 

suggested. You can return to New York and perhaps 
join us in Maine later in the summer. 

Sir B. Oh, I say, Miss Fernley, Fm not such a bloom- 
ing cad as that, really I'm not, don't you know. Of course 
I'll stay if I can get lodgings in the village. I — er — why, 
dash it, you couldn't drive me away as long as you're here. 
Might be able to do some little thing for you, don't you 
know. 

Laura. I shall be glad to have you near. 

Sir B. (eagerly). Will you now, really? I say, Miss 
Laura, I wish you'd let me be always — (Laura glances 
toivard Marie) Oh, hang the bally maid! {He goes l., 
hands in pockets) 

ENTER Dr. Austin and Mrs. Brandon r. 1. e. 

Sir B. Well, Fm off to the village. 

Dr. a. Wait a moment, Sir Blashington, and I'll go 
with you. There are some things I must have from the 
drug-store. Miss Fernley, will you go and sit with your 
father? (EXIT Laura r. 1. e.) Now, Mrs. Brandon, 
about that nurse? 

Mrs. B. I'll send Tommie right over after her. Why, 
where is Tommie? 

Marie. Ze leetle boy go to ze automobile wiz ze 
chauffeur, but zey return now. 

ENTER G ASS A WAY and Algernon c. d. with suit-cases. 
Dr. Austin opens medicine case at table and examines con- 
tents. 

Mrs. B. Tommie, Avill you go over to Mrs. Dunn's 
and ask Miss Carmody to come right over here if she can? 

Alg. Will I? Say, I'll do anything you say if you'll 
call me Tommie. Watch me fade away! 

[EXIT CD., running. 

Gas. Could you tell me, ma'am, if there's a garage in 
the village? 

Mrs. B. a what? 

Gas. a garage — place where they repair cars. 

Mrs. B. Oh, I guess you mean a garridge. Yes, there 



Where the Lane Turned 13 

is one. You just ask the first boy you meet to show you 
the way to Ed. Ford's and he'll do it. 

Dk. a. I am going to the village, Gassaway, and will 
take a message if you wish. 

Gas. Thank you, sir. Ask the chap to come out and 
tow the car to his shop, if you please. 

Dr. a. Certainly. (EXIT c. d. Gassaway) Now I'm 
ready. Sir Blashington. 

[EXEUNT c. D. Dr. Austin and Blashington. 

Mrs. B. Now, Mary, I'll show you where Miss Fern- 
ley's room will be and you can carry the suit-cases up and 
unpack. {Goes to r. 2. e. followed by Marie) You go up 
the stairs and turn to the right and it's the first door. 
There's a httle room just off from it for you. 

Marie. Oui, madame, merci. [EXIT r. 2. e. 

Mrs. B. Now what did she mean by that? Madame 
means Mrs. — I know as much French as that — but what 
did she say we and mercy for? {Drops into chair r. c.) 
Land! I'm about tuckered out with all this excitement. 
An hour ago I had four in the family and now there's 
eight. I hope there's cake enough for supper. Eight? 
Why, there'll be nine, that nurse will be here too. Dear, 
dear! And I'd just been telHn' Mis' Smith I wouldn't 
have her in the house for anything. Well, if Sarah Dunn 
could stand it I s'pose I can, but I dread it. Fernley! 
Seems as if I'd heard that name before somewheres. She 
said they come from New York. I wonder if they're any 
relation to that big railroad man, J. Fernley and Com- 
pany? 

ENTER Brandon l. d. 

Bran. Well, mother, how is he? 

Mrs. B. Sh-h! He's in there and his daughter's with 
him. I guess he's pretty bad off. The doctor says so and 
I've generally noticed that when a doctor admits a patient 
is bad off he's really worse than that. Dr. Austin says 
he can't be moved for a month and must have a trained 
nurse. 

Bran. Whew! I guess you'll have your hands full, 
mother. But we couldn't send him away, of course, 



14 Where the Lane Turned 

Mrs. B. (going to him). No. See here, father, what 
do you know about that man? 

Bran. What makes you think I know anything about 
him? 

Mrs. B. Caleb Brandon, do you suppose I've been 
your wife for thirty years and don't know your ways? I 
saw how you acted when you saw that man's face. Now 
you tell me all about it. 

Bran. Well, mother, I do know him. His name is 
Jasper Fernley. 

Mrs. B. I know that much myself. Is he any rela- 
tion to J. Fernley and Company that's got more millions 
than we have dollars? 

Bran. Relation? Why, he is J. Fernley. 

Mrs. B. Caleb! Do you mean to say that one of the 
richest men in the country is a-layin' in my spare-room 
bed? 

Bran. That's the fact, mother. 

Mrs. B. For the land's sake! I'm glad I put my best 
piller-cases on that bed. But, Caleb, how come you to 
know him? 

Bran. It was this way, mother. Jasper Fernley and 
I were friends when we were boys. Not many folks know 
it, but he was born and brought up about three miles 
from here, and we went to school together. When we were 
lads we used to talk and plan about how when we were a 
little older we'd go to New York together and make our 
fortunes. And as soon as we were old enough we began to 
work to get enough money to go. We chopped wood and 
hoed potatoes and mowed hay and husked corn for neighbors 
when we could be spared from home, until at last we had 
a hundred dollars apiece. That was quite a sum of money 
for those days and we thought it was enough to start with 
and our fathers gave us permission to go. I guess we were 
about the happiest eighteen-year-old boys anywhere in 
Connecticut the night before we were to start. At least, 
I was happy, but Jasper seemed quieter than usual, as 
if he was thinking pretty deep about something. He 
had come over here to spend the night with me and we 
were to start on the early morning train for New York, 



Where the Lane Turned 16 

We slept in that very room where he Hes now, each with 
his money under his pillow. Well, when I woke up in the 
morning Jasper was gone and so was my money. He had 
left a note for me that said he'd come to the conclusion 
that a hundred dollars wa'n't enough to start hfe in New 
York on, but that two hundred might do; so, as he knew 
he couldn't make me see it that way, he was just going to 
borrow my hundred dollars and take the night train, 
because he knew he could make better use of the money 
than I could. I guess he was right (Bitterly) for I was 
honest. He said he'd send for me as soon as he could get 
started and earn enough to pay me back. But I knew 
he never would and he never did. That was the worst 
day of my life. I told father about it and then I rushed 
up to the woods, flung myself face down on the moss and 
stayed there all day. Someway, it wasn't the loss of my 
money or the disappointment that I minded so much as 
the loss of my friend. That it had been Jasper, my other 
self, who had betrayed me — that ate into my heart. When 
I went home at sunset I was no longer a boy but a man. 
All the ambition was crushed out of me. I hated the 
thought of New York and wanted only to stay on the 
farm in peace. And here I've stayed, and never men- 
tioned JasDer Fernley's name from that day to this. 

Mrs. b! Oh, Caleb, Caleb! To think of what you 
suffered makes my heart ache. And you might have 
been just as great a man as Jasper Fernley if he hadn't 
stolen your chance. 

Bran. No mother, no. It wasn't in me, the power 
to push my way to the top, to rise by thrusting others 
down. Jasper saw that; he could alw^ays read people 
and he knew me then better than I knew myself. It was 
all for the best and I'm happy and contented now. But 
it was a strange chance that brought him to my door, 
half dead. I knew him the minute I set eyes on his face, 
though it's thirty-five years since I saw him, and the 
sight of him stirred up all the old anger that I thought 
was dead and buried. But it's over now. We must take 
good care of him, mother. 

Mrs. B. (sighing). Yes, father, I suppose so. 



16 Where the Lane Turned 

ENTER Mrs. Smythe r. 2 e. 

Mrs. S. (excitedly). Oh, is it true that the injured man 
is the great Jasper Fernley? 

Bran, (dryly). The great Jasper Fernley it is, Mrs. 
Smith. 

Mrs. S. Smythe, if you please. The maid told me 
but I could hardly believe it. Think of being under the 
same roof with Jasper Fernley and his daughter! What 
an honor! 

Bran. Why? 

Mrs. S. 'Why? Because he^s so rich and such a great 
man and — and — 

Mrs. B. Well, he ain't rich enough nor great enough 
to save himself some mighty uncomfortable weeks and I 
shouldn't wonder if he was like most other rich and great 
people — just plain folks when you come to know 'em. 

Mrs. B. I don't see how that can be when they're 
in the best society. Where is Algernon? 

Mrs. B. He went over to the Dunns' for me, to ask 
Miss Carmody, the nurse, to come over and take care of 
Mr. Fernley. They ought to be here soon. 

ENTER Laura r. 1 e. 

Laura. Hasn't the nurse come yet, Mrs. Brandon? 

Mrs. B. Not yet, but she will come in a few minutes, 
I am sure. Miss Fernley this is Mrs. 

Mrs. S. Smythe. 

Mrs. B. — who is boarding with us this summer. 

LauRx^. I fear our abrupt intrusion will spoil your 
summer's quiet, Mrs. Smythe. 

Mns. S. (eagerly). No indeed. It will be an unexpected 
pleasure to enjoy the best society in this retired spot, 
and if I can do anything to help you I shall be only too 
glad. 

Laura. Thank you. 

Alg. (thrusting his head in at the window). I got her! 
She's comin'! I'm goin' to beat it for the buzz-wagon. 
(He disappears,) 



Where the Lane Turned 17 

Bran. I believe I'll go down and look at the wreck, 
too. [EXIT c. D. taking hat from table. 

ENTER Joyce d. c. 

Joyce. You sent for me, Mrs. Brandon? 

Mrs. B. Yes, Miss Carmody, and oh, I'm so glad 
you've come. I s'pose Tommie told you all about the 
accident? 

Joyce. Yes. At least (Smiling) I think I gathered 
most of the facts from his picturesque method of expres- 
sion. Where is my patient? 

Mrs. B. In there (Indicating r. 1 e.). And this is his 
daughter, Miss Fernley. 

Laura (clasping Joyce's hand). It is such a relief to 
have you here. We are fortunate indeed to find a trained 
nurse so near. Now let me take you to my father. 

Joyce (detaining her) . If I may suggest, Miss Fernley, 
I think it would be best for you to go and rest. You have 
been under a severe strain and you look almost exhausted. 
I will do what little can be done for your father until the 
doctor returns. 

Laura. Why, I had not noticed it before, but I am 
very tired. But if father should need me — 

Joyce. I promise to call you at once if you are needed. 

Laura. Then I believe I will go to niy room. 

Mrs. S. Let me show you the way. [i^^XEUNT r. 2 e. 

Joyce (going toward r. 1 e.). Now, Mrs. Brandon, 
we shall need bandages and hot water when the doctor 
returns. Can you see that they are made ready while I 
arrange the sick-room and make the patient as comfort- 
able as possible? 

Mrs. B. Yes, I'll have everything ready. 

Joyce. Thank you. [EXIT r. 1 e. 

Mrs. B. (sighing). It's begun. [EXIT l. d. 

ENTER G ass A WAY c. d. He shoves his cap on the hack 
of his head, throws himself on a chair l. c, thrusts his hands 
in his pockets and looks disgusted. 

Gas. Darn the luck! Radiator smashed, front wheels 



18 Where the Lane Turned 

dished, cylinders cracked, front universal shaft and brake- 
rod counter-shaft snapped, steering-gear twisted — not a 
blamed thing uninjured from head-light to tail-lamp. 
Got to have new cam shaft, pistons, spring shackles, 
differential, and about 'steen other things. Take as long 
to repair it as it will to repair the boss, I guess. And 
look what I'm in for in the next month! Me, Speedmore 
Gassaway, expert mechanician and crack chauffeur, 
turned loose on a hayseed job, feed the pigs, rake the hay, 
milk the cows — and not even anybody to talk to that 
knows a carburettor from an Oldham coupling! There's 
just one bright spot in the whole blame' mess and that is — 
Marie. If I've got to stay in this forsaken neck o' the 
woods for a month, at least she'll be here too, and if I 
don't make good use of the opportunity may I be chucked 
on the scrap-heap, by gasoline! Oh, here she comes 
now! (Rises) 

ENTER Marie r. 2 e. 

Marie. Meestair Gassaway! You here? 

Gas. Sure. I-er-just thought I'd come up and ask 
about your arm. 

Marie. My arm? He is ver' — what you call? — on 
ze bum, but I tink he be well in few days, yes. But you, 
how it is you not get hurt, eh? 

Gas. Oh, the chauffeur always ''escapes without 
injury." 

Marie. Poor monsieur! He not escape wizout in- 
jury, no. Ze doctair tink he — what you call? — go up 
ze spout, eh? 

Gas. Oh, I guess it won't be as bad as that, but he'll 
have to stay in the repair shop a while. And the worst 
of it is that you and I have got to stay in this hvely, 
cheerful, dead-and-buried hole while he's laid up. What 
do you know about that? 

]\Iarie. Oh, je suis desol^ — I am in deespair! (Trag- 
ically) Me, Marie Leconte, lady's maid par excellence, 
to wash ze deeshes, pare ze pommes de terre, ze — what 
you call? — spuds, perhaps even to peel ze onion — me! 



Where the Lane Turned 19 

Ugh! (She shudders) Onlee for because mademoiselle 
have promise her blue dress do I stay. 

Gas. Well, I'm just as stuck on this place as you are, 
and I'd jack up the job if it wasn't for you, Marie. 

Marie (coquettishly) . For me, monsieur? 

Gas. Sure. Look here, Marie, I've got an eighty- 
horse-power crush on you and if you'll only take me in 
tow, our life shall be one long joy-ride. 

Marie (puzzled). Me. I spik ze United States tres 
bien, but — ''take me in tow" — qu'est-ce que c'est cela? 

Gas. Why-er-marry me, you know. 

Mahib (disdainfully) . Me? Marry wiz you? Nevair! 
If zat is what keep monsieur here I tink monsieur had 
better — what you call? — zhack up ze zhob ! [EXIT r. 2 e. 

Gas. (down c). Punctured! 

Marie (putting her head in at the door). Zat ees, un- 
less monsieur can teach me to have — what you call? — 
crush on him! 

Gas. (eagerly). Will I? Oh, say! Marie! Come back! 
(Starts UP R. Auto horn is heard in the distance.) Oh, 
darn it! That chap has come from the garage and is 
calhng me. I'll have to go. Never mind, there's a whole 
month coming. [EXIT c. d. 

ENTER Dr. Austin c. d. after a short pause. 

Dr. a. Back at last! How maddeningly slow people 
can be when one is in a hurry! (Sets case on table, opens 
it and examines contents) Yes, I believe I have everything 
I shall need. I have telegraphed to New York for Walters, 
the specialist on fractures of the skull. We may have to 
trepan. Until he comes to-morrow there is little to be 
done except to set the broken leg. I wonder if that nurse 
has arrived yet. (Comes down c. just as Joyce ENTERS 
R. 1 E. Both stop short, gazing at each other with astonish- 
ment and strong emotion) 

Dr. a. (stretching out his arms). Joyce! Joyce! Have 
I found you at last? 

Joyce (faintly). Found me, Dr. Austin? I — I did 
not know — 



20 Where the Lane Turned 

Dr. a. That I was searching for you? Oh, Joyce! 
How could it be otherwise? You must have known I 
would search the world over for you. Why did you leave 
the hospital training-school so suddenly and without a 
word to me? Oh, I have a thousand questions to ask you! 
But first tell me where you have been these three long 
years, and how you happen to be here now. 

Joyce {wearily). Where have I been? Ah, where 
have I not been? But here, I am the nurse you sent for 
to take charge of this case. (Aside) If I had known I 
should find him here — 

Dr. a. You? Ah, then my patient will live, for you 
never lost a case that skillful nursing would pull through. 
Do you remember that man who was brought to the 
hospital so fearfully mangled by a train, how we worked 
over him all night, you and I, and how, just as the morn- 
ing broke, we knew that he would live, that we had saved 
his life? 

Joyce (aside). Do I remember? Oh, that I could 
forget! 

Dr. a. It was to you he owed his hfe more than to 
me, and when the dawn stole in upon us, and I looked 
across his cot and saw your face grey, drawn and haggard 
with the vigil and the fight with death, but shining with 
an almost unearthly fight of triumph — it was then I re- 
solved that the new day should not die until I had told 
you of my love, though I knew you must have seen it 
long before. But when I sought for you that afternoon 
you had gone, no one knew where. And I have been 
seeking for you ever since. But now I have found you, 
Joyce, and — 

Joyce. Stop! I may not, must not fisten. 

Dr. a. Must not? I do not understand. 

Joyce. And I — do not choose to explain. Think me 
fickle, heartless, a coquette if you will. Perhaps it would 
be better so. 

Dr. a. No, that I cannot do, for I know it would not 
be true. You are not the woman to trifle with a man's 
heart. You Imew that I loved j^ou three years ago, that 
I only waited an opportunity to ask you to be my wife. 



Where the Lane Turned 21 

I believed that at least you were not indifferent to me, 
yet you fled from me — how else can I construe your sudden 
departure? Now that I have found you again you are 
strangely silent and forbid me to speak. What does it 
mean? (Pause) This one question I have a right to ask 
and you must answer; whatever your feeling for me was 
three years ago, has it changed? 

Joyce {in a low voice, after short pause). No. 

Dr. a. Then I can only trust you and hope that 
sometime I shall understand. 

Joyce. You can do that? 

Dr. a. Yes, for I know that you loved me then. 
(Pause) Joyce ! Joyce ! 

Joyce. Dr. Austin, we are forgetting our duties. 
There is work for us in there. (Points r. 1 e.) 

Dr. a. You are right. (They go r., pausing at door) 

Joyce. And remember — we are doctor and nurse, 
nothing more. 

Dr. a. It shall be as you say. [EXEUNT both r. 1 e. 

CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 

SCENE. — The same. Evening of the next day. Table 
DOWN c. with lighted lamp, Mr. and Mrs. Brandon 
seated r. and l. of table, he reading aloud from news- 
paper, she darning stockings. 

Bran, (reading). '^ Jasper Fernley, railroad magnate 
and fy-nancier, seriously injured in automobile accident 
near Mapleville, Connecticut. Recovery expected unless 
complications set in. Other members of his party unin- 
jured. Flurry in stocks of roads controlled by him. Mar- 
ket uncertain, with shght tendency to rise." (Lays down 
paper) Well, mother, it sort o' looks to me as the hub o' 
the fy-nancial world had moved to Mapleville for a spell. 

Mrs. B. I guess you wouldn't have any doubt about 
it if you'd been pestered half to death, as I have to-day. 
I declare, I'm about beat out. 



22 Where the Lane Turned 

Bran. Pestered? Who done it? I'll — {half rising) 

Mrs. B. There, there, Caleb, 'twa'n't nothin' that 
could be helped, things bein' as they be. I didn't mean 
to complain. It sounds kind of inhospitable. 

Bran. Well, let's hear about it, anyway, mother. 

Mrs. B. Why, in the first place there's been Miss 
Carmody to wait on. She's as nice as she can be and I'm 
goin' to get real fond of her, but things have got to be 
just so, now I tell you. A leetle mite more so or less so 
won't do at all, no sir-ee. When she says she wants a 
thing cold she means right off the top o' the North Pole, 
and when she says hot she means straight out o' Tophet. 
The breakfast dishes wa'n't hardly done when in popped 
that specialist from New York, and what was the good 
of him I can't see for he didn't stay more'n half an hour 
and just said Dr. Austin was a-doin' all right and if he 
needed any further advice to just call in Dr. Hull, 'cause 
there wa'n't a better surgeon anywheres 'round. Well, 
he'd no sooner gone than Will. Try on come to get some 
p'ints for a piece he's goin' to write up for a Hartford 
paper, tellin' about the accident and all. Then this after- 
noon who should appear but the reporter for the ''New 
Brighton Herald" and he was the worst of all. My stars! 
That young man can ask more questions in a minute 
than I could answer in all day. When he went away I 
felt as he'd turned my head inside out and picked out 
all the idees there was in it. But I guess he didn't, for, 
father, I didn't tell any of 'em about how you used to 
know Mr. Fernley when you was both boys. Somehow, 
I didn't think you'd want me to. 

Bran. That's right, mother, it's best to let bygones 
be bygones. 

Mrs. B. Ain't there any Mapleville news in the 
''Herald" to-night, father? 

Bran, {picking up paper). Why, yes, seems to me I 
saw some. Yes, here 'tis. {Reads) "A close observer 
can see that work is being done on the new schoolhouse. 
At the present rate of progress it ought to be ready for 
the grandchildren of the present pupils. 

Mrs. I. E. Charter won first prize for raising the largest 



Where the Lane Turned 23 

pumpkin in the ladies' pumpkin contest conducted by 
the Grange. 

A. F. Ryker's youngest daughter was entered at the 
Lake Pocahontas Baby Show last week and carried off 
the prize for the handsomest girl. 

Go to W. E. Lark's for everything nobby in gentle- 
men's wear. Our price is fair, our cause is just; we'll 
treat you square, but cannot trust." (Note: This feature 
7nay he expanded at will) Oh, I guess that last was just 
an advertisement tacked onto the end of the news. Ho, 
hum! (Yawning) Must be gettin' along towards bedtime, 
ain't it? 

Mrs. B. (rolling up work). Yes, 'tis. You wind the 
clock and lock the doors and I'll light the lamp. (He winds 
clock then EXIT l. d. She lights small lamp) Father! 

Bran. (offh.). Yes? 

Mrs. B. Put the cat out. (Goes toward r. 2 e. with 
lamp) 

Bran. Yes. (ENTER l. d. and locks door c.) You 
goin' to leave this lamp burnin'? 

Mrs. B. Yes, in case Miss Carmody wants it. Oh, 
here she comes now. (ENTER Joyce r. 1 e.) You 
goin' to set up all night. Miss Carmody? 

Joyce. I think so. Dr. Austin said he would be over 
late this evening and I shall at least stay up until after 
he has been here. 

Bran. How is Mr. Fernley this evening? 

Joyce. He is very restless and feverish and at times 
his mind wanders a little. I am a trijfle uneasy about 
him. 

Bran. Ain't you afraid to be left alone? 

Joyce. Oh, no, there is no danger. 

Bran. Well, if you need us you call. 

Joyce. Yes, thank you. Good-night. 

Bran, and Mrs. B. Good-night. [EXEUNT r. 2 e. 

Joyce. Dear, kind, good Samaritans. They are of 
the very salt of the earth. (Sits r. of table and leans head 
on hand wearily) Oh, the w^ary struggle! Must I begin 
it all over again? He was right when he said I fled from 
him three years ago, but he little guesses why, nor what 



24 Where the Lane Turned 

that last night at the hospital meant to me. And now, 
just as I was beginning to forget — no, no, not forget, 
but grow used to the dull ache of remembering — he strikes 
across my path again. To be near him, to work with 
him, to touch his hand, to see his heart looking through 
his eyes — and to know that I must steel my heart against 
him! Oh, was there ever such exquisite torture? I will 
not endure it! (Starting up wildly) I cannot! I will fly 
from him again as before! (Runs to c.i>., hesitates, Fern- 
ley groans off r.) What! I, a nurse, desert my patient? 
I must be mad! No {Coming back), whatever the cost 
to me, I must remain here where I am needed, and — yield 
not to temptation. {Knock at c. d.) It is — Roger. No, 
no — Dr. Austin. I did not expect him so soon. {Rises 
wearily) I must take up my burden again. {Opens door. 
ENTER Vincent Grafton. Joyce staggers hack) Vin- 
cent Grafton! 

Grafton {surprised, but exultant). Well, this is luck! 
I came here expecting to find some old crone in charge, 
and I find — you. Ha, ha! Good! How are you, my 
dear? {Attempts to embrace her) 

Joyce {fiercely). Don't dare to touch me! 

Graf. What! Not glad to see me? 

Joyce. Why should I be glad to see you? 

Graf. Oh, come now, what's the use of harboring 
an old grudge? Why not make the best of things? Sit 
down and let's be sociable. {Sits l. of table) 

Joyce {standing r.). No. If you have any business 
with me state it and then go. 

Graf. Thanks for your cordial invitation, my dear. 
I have some business with you and probably I shall go 
when it's done, but I'm in no hurry, thank you. How- 
ever, as you seem to have a little feminine curiosity as to 
the object of my visit, I may as well state that my business 
concerns your patient. 

Joyce. My patient? 

Graf. In other words — Jasper Fernley. 

Joyce. Why should you think — - 

Graf. Don't try to fence. {Tapping newspaper) 
Everybody in the country knows he is here. 



Where the Lane Turned 26 

Joyce. Whatever business you have with him must 
await his recovery. He is utterly unable to do any busi- 
ness. (Feenley groans and mutters off r. Grafton listens 
intently and smiles with satisfaction) 

Graf. So I perceive; all the better. You will bear 
in mind that I said — not that my business was with him, 
but that it concerned him. 

Joyce. Explain yourself. 

Graf, (picks up paper and reads) . ''Recovery expected 
unless complications set in. Flurry in stocks controlled 
by him. Market uncertain with tendency to rise." (Throws 
down paper) That ' ' Tendency to rise ' ' must be encouraged 
and so — complications are about to set in. 

Joyce. I do not understand. 

Graf, (leans across table and speaks tensely). Sit down 
and listen. (She sits reluctantly) After — well, six years 
ago — (She shudders) I drifted from one thing to another 
and finally dropped into a berth as agent for a firm of 
brokers. After a while I began to speculate, cautiously 
at first, with small sums borrowed from the deposits of 
my customers and paid back from my winnings, then 
more boldly as I was more successful. Finally, I put all 
I could raise and — borrow — into shares of the M. T. & R., 
which were rising fast and seemed sure to keep on rising. 
But — they stopped rising and then began to fall. Why? 
Because our friend Jasper Fernley wanted to buy the 
M. T. & R. as cheap as he could and began by forcing 
its stock down. The old fox threw his own M, T. & R. 
stock into the market when it was highest in such quan- 
tities that the price fell. When it had touched bottom 
he would have begun to buy secretly and cautiously until 
he would have had control before anyone knew it. Mean- 
while, it dropped. Just as I had put up my last dollar for 
margin came this accident. M. T. & R. wavered and 
stopped falling just in time to save me from ruin — and 
worse. Ten thousand dollars of my customers' money 
is in that stock. Let Jasper Fernley recover and M. T. & 
R will begin to drop again and — it will be Sing Sing or 
cold steel for me. Let him die and the stock will rise and 
I shall be safe. Now, neither Sing Sing nor cold steel 



26 Where the Lane Turned 

particularly appeal to me, therefore, — Jasper Fernley 
must not recover. 

Joyce. But he will recover. 

GnAF, (significantly). Unless complications set in. And 
to make sure that complications will set in — I brought 
some with me. 

Joyce. What do you mean? 

Graf, (taking small phial from pocket). There they are. 

Joyce (horrified) . You will — 

Graf. Oh, no, you will. 

Joyce. I? 

Graf. Exactly. A few drops of this in his medicine 
and — M. T. & R. will rise and you and I will start for 
Europe next week. 

Joyce. Murder ! 

Graf. Is it murder to shoot a man who has you by 
the throat and is choking the life out of you? No, it is 
self-defense, and so is this. 

Joyce. You fiend! 

Graf. Oh, cut out the heroics and let's arrange the 
details. 

Joyce. It is possible you really think I would consent 
to this foul thing? 

Graf. Don't be a fool, Joyce. The man must die. 
This is a subtle poison which affects the heart in such a 
way that he will seem to have died a natural death. What 
more plausible than that the accident should have had 
an unsuspected effect upon his heart? You will not be 
suspected. And, as I have said, when I have reaped my 
harvest you shall share it with me. You've treated me 
badly, Joyce, but, hang it, I was always crazy about you 
and am still. We'll go anywhere or do anything you 
like if you'll only be reasonable. 

Joyce. And if I refuse? 

Graf. Oh, in that case, I shall be under the unpleasant 
necessity of binding and gagging you while I administer 
the — er — medicine myself. That done, I shall release you 
and take my leave. Before you can raise an alarm, if 
you are foolish enough to do that, I shall be out of reach. 
Moreover, suspicion would promptly fall upon you. See? 



Where the Lane Turned 27 

Joyce. Vincent! Vincent! You cannot be in earnest. 
Even you, bad as you are, would not carry out such a 
diabolical scheme as this. You would not blacken your 
soul with murder. Oh, say that you did not mean it! 
It is not for myself that I plead, but for you; you cannot 
be all bad — no one is. Surely there is a spark of nobility 
left in your nature. You have wrecked my happiness 
and bhghted my life, so that all that is left to me is to 
make my life useful to others, yet I would save you from 
this last, worst crime of all. Perhaps it will not be as 
bad as you fear about the stocks, but even if it is, take 
your punishment like a man rather than stain your soul 
with such a heinous crime as this. {He stands with folded 
arms, gazing l. She has gone to him and laid her hand on 
his arm. Now she retreats r.) 

Graf. Well, if you have finished your touching appeal — 
for the last time, will you do what I ask? 

Joyce. Once and for all — no! 

Graf. Then you'll take the consequences of your 
refusal. {Starts toward her threateningly) 

Joyce. We'll see about that. {She draws revolver from 
her apron pocket and covers him) Stop ! 

Graf. Curse you! 

Joyce {quietly) . Did you really suppose I would guard 
a man Hke Jasper Fernley in a lonely farm-house without 
some protection? Put that phial on the table. {He hesi- 
tates) Oh, this is loaded and it will be the worse for you 
if I have to prove it. {He places phial on table and she 
takes it) Now leave this house. {He goes slowly toward 
c. D., she keeping him covered. When he has nearly reached 
the door it opens and ENTER Dr. Austin) 

Joyce. Dr. Austin! 

Dr. a. Miss Carmody! What does this mean? 

Joyce. It means that Mr. Fernley's hfe has been in 
danger. 

Dr. a. Mr. Fernley's hfe! 

Joyce. Yes. This man would have poisoned him or 
forced me to do it, to escape the ruin he richly deserves. 

Graf. Who is this man? 

Joyce. Look! Do you not recognize him? 



2S Where the Lane turned 

Dr. a. (looking keenly at Grafton). Why, it is the 
man whose Hfe you and I saved that last night at the 
hospital. (Grafton starts and looks surprised) 

Joyce {significantly). Yes. 

Dr. a. There is something behind all this which I 
do not understand. Joyce, what is this man to you? 

Joyce. He is — my husband. 

Dr. a. {staggering hack). Your husband! 

Graf, {sneeringly) . Your friend seems to have heard 
some news about you, my dear wife. 

Joyce {sternly). One word more from you and I fire. 
{He is sullenly silent) 

Dr. a. What hideous force of circumstances could 
have bound you to this wretch? 

Joyce. You may well call it hideous. Listen, for the 
time has come when you must know. Six years ago, 
Vincent Grafton and I were guests at a large house-party. 
He asked me to marry him. I refused, for I detested him. 
A few days later, to relieve the tedium of a rainy day, a 
mock wedding was suggested, not by him, but, as I after- 
ward learned, at his instigation. Again at his secret 
prompting, he and I were selected as the principals. It 
was a mad prank, but, rather than make an awkward 
scene, I carried it through in a moment of reckless folly. 
You can guess the rest. When the mock ceremony, as 
I believed it, was over, he told me that the man who had 
performed it was a justice of the peace, that he had pro- 
cured a license, and that we were legally husband and 
wife. Imagine, if you can, my horror. My parents were 
dead, I was ashamed to appeal to my friends for help, 
and was too young and ignorant to know what to do my- 
self. So I tried to escape from him, going from one place 
to another until my small inheritance was exhausted, 
but always he pursued me and persecuted me. At last 
I succeeded in eluding him and entered a New York 
training-school to become a nurse. Two years later I 
heard that he was dead, and believed myself free. Oh, 
how happy I was! Then came the night when he was 
brought to the hospital injured and I knew that happiness 
was still only a dream for me. How I wanted to let him 



Where the Lane Turned 29 

die! But I only worked all the harder to save him, that 
his death might not be on my head. Well, he lived— and 
now he has found me again. 

Dr. A. Joyce! My poor Joyce! (To Grafton) You 
villain ! I will kill you ! {Starts toward Grafton) 

Joyce. Roger! No! Stop! (She starts forward and 
drops revolver. Grafton springs for and seizes it. Joyce 
runs L. to Dr. Austin, Grafton covers them and laughs 
triumphantly) 

Graf. Ha, ha! He laughs best who laughs last. 
You're a pretty pair, you are. So it was you two who 
pulled me through in the hospital, was it? I suppose 
you think I can't read between the lines of your fine story, 
my sweet wife. Wanted your loving husband to die so 
you could marry your doctor lover, didn't you? I believe 
it is no thanks to either of you that I blocked that little 
game, in spite of your pious talk. Well, I've got the drop 
on you now, and I rather think I'll put my own little 
game through. Give me that phial. 

Joyce. Never! 

Graf. Give — me — that — phial — or — I — fire — at — him ! 

Dr. a. {starting forward) . You coward! 

Joyce {springing before Dr. Austin and thrusting him 
hack). Fire! 

Graf, (laughing fiendishly as he lowers revolver to his side) . 
Through you, eh? Oh, no, my dear, I'm not through with 
you yet. But your turn will come — after I've finished 
with him. {During this speech Algernon sticks his head 
through the r. 2 e., and takes in the situation. Now he steals 
behind Grafton and snatches revolver from his hand. As 
Grafton turns furiously Algernon showing signs of hasty 
dressing, prances down l. c, keeping Grafton covered) 

Alg. If there's going to be a rough-house, yours truly 
is Tommie-on-the-spot, and don't you forget it. 

Graf. You miserable brat! Give me that gun! 

Alg. Not on your tin type! I may need it. Say, 
mister, maybe you think you're the main squeeze but 
I'm my own lemon. See? Now don't get busy with your 
mitts or you'll have Old Man Trouble for a twin. What'll 
I do with him, Miss Carmody? 



30 Where the Lane Turned 

Joyce. We must let him go, Tommie. 

Alg. Well, strike me pink! That's the hmit! Say, 
can't I call Sheriff Smart or Constable Gray? 

Joyce. No, Tommie dear, you don't understand. 

Alg. (sighing). Well, you're the doctor. {To Graf- 
ton) Pull your freight, Gloomy Gus. (Grafton goes 
slowly toward c. d.) 

Graf, (snarling). You'll hear from me again. 

[EXIT c. D. 

Alg. Hooray for us! (Joyce rushes to him and hugs 
him) 

CURTAIN. 



ACT HI. 

SCENE. — The same, an afternoon three weeks later. DIS- 
COVERED Marie paring potatoes. She wears a 
large, ill-fitting kitchen apron. 

Marie (sighing). How I am meeserable, me! T'ree 
weeks of potatoes, po-ta-toes, and more po-ta-toes! I 
tink zey are made of potatoes, zese peoples. Ugh! How I 
hate you, you pommes de terre! (Jahs one with knife) 
Zere ees one sing onlee zat ees not potatoes and zat — hist! 
it approach! 



ENTER G ASS AWAY c. d. carrying rake. 



Gas. Hullo, Marie. 

Marie (demurely). Bon jour, monsieur. 

Gas. (dejectedly, dropping into chair l. c. and mopping 
face with handkerchief). Gee! I wish all the hay on this 
blamed farm was sunk in the middle of Mapleviile pond. 

Marie. An' all ze potatoes too? 

Gas. Sure. 

Marie. Oh, zat would be gr-r-rand, magnifique— -what 
you call? — dandee! Me, I wish zat your wish come true. 



I 



Where the Lane Turned 31 

Gas. Well, it won't. But say, Marie, I've got another 
wish that — (Approaching her) 

Marie (hastily). I know what eet ees, zat wish. You 
wish you go 'to Coney Island to-night. 

Gas. (turning away with a groan). Coney Island! 

Marie (wistfully). Ah, ze hghts, ze musique, ze Dream- 
land, ze Luna Park, ze Steeplechase, ze railway scenique, 
ze — 

Gas. Oh, chuck it, Marie, you make me homesick. 
Gee! Think of Coney Island and then look at — this! 
{Waving hand) 

Marie. Monsieur prefers Coney Island to me? 

Gas. Oh, you know I didn't mean that. I was think- 
ing of Coney Island with you. I say, Marie, if we ever 
get back to little old New York we'll go down to the island 
the first evening and do it up brown, eh? But look here, 
Marie, I want to ask you — 

Marie. Oh, how I am forget! Mademoiselle give me 
message for you to tell you to go to ze town to get some 
sings for her. 

Gas. Hooray! That's better than raking hay! What 
does she want me to get? 

Marie. Ten yards of ribbon de I'enfant — what you 
call? — baby ribbon, blue, one dozain leetle white buttons, 
one skein of silk for embroider, pink, one paper of pins. 

Gas. Just say that again kind of slow, will you? 

Marie. One skein — 

Mrs. B. (off l.). Mary, ain't you got them pertaters 
peeled yet? 

Marie. Oui, madame, I bring zem. (To Gassaway) 
Mary! [EXIT l. d. 

Gas. Now what did she say? If it had been a few 
simple things like brass polish, spark-plugs, batteries, 
fan-belts, decarbonizers, or blow-out patches, I could 
have remembered them well enough but this darned 
woman's stuff is the limit. Well, I'll have to make a 
bluff at it. Let's see — one skein of little pink buttons, a 
dozen yards of white pins, one paper of ribbon, ten blue 
babies — no, that can't be right. Gee! I'll have to get 
the clerk at the emporium to help me out. [EXIT c. d. 



32 Where the Lane Turned 

ENTER Mrs. Smythe and Laura r. 2 e. 

Mrs.S. How glad you must be that your father is 
nearly well enough for you to leave here, Miss Fernley. 

Laura. Of course, Mrs. Smith — 

Mrs. S. Smythe, if you please. 

Laura. Excuse me — Mrs. Smythe — I am glad that 
father is improving so rapidly, but if you mean that I 
must be glad to leave here, why, no indeed, why should 
I be? {They sit r. and l.) 

Mrs. S. Well of course, the country is pretty and 
restful and all that, but anyone who is accustomed to 
moving in the best society must find it a little lonely here. 
Indeed, your coming was a real boon to me. 

Laura. Thank you. But I am sure there is no better 
society than that of kind hearts and generous souls and 
those are certainly not lacking here. 

Mrs. S. (hastily). To be sure — you are quite right — 
that is what I always tell Algernon. And then of course 
Lord Ingleby is here too. 

Laura. Oh, but he's not a lord, you know, just a plain 
baronet. 

Mrs. S. Well, I suppose baronets in England move 
in the best society, don't they? 

Laura. Why-er-I suppose so. By the way, Mrs. 
Smi-Smythe, is Mr. Smythe coming up next Sunday as 
you expected? 

Mrs. S. (uneasily). No, he-he finds that he — it will 
be impossible for him to get away. 

Laura. That is too bad. What is his business? 

Mrs. S. He-er-deals in stock. 

Laura. Oh! And on what part of Fifth Avenue do 
you live? 

Mrs. S. Well, I-we-don't Hve on Fifth Avenue — not 
exactly. 

Laura. I see; one of the cross streets, I suppose. 

Mrs.S. (hastily). I think Algernon is calling me. 
Excuse me, please, Miss Fernley. [EXIT c. d. hurriedly. 

Laura. She seems uneasy about something. [ENTER 
Mrs. Brandon l. d.] Oh, dear Mrs. Brandon, do come 



Where the Lane Turned 33 

and sit down a minute, won't you? You always seem 
too busy to rest. Aren't you tired? 

Mrs. B. {sighing wearily as she sinks into chair l. c). 
Well, my dear, I don't know but I am a mite tired, come 
to think on't. 

Laura {sitting on hassock at Mrs. Brandon's feet). 
What a great deal of trouble we have made you, haven't 
we? 

Mrs. B. Now don't you go to worryin' about that. 
Bless you heart, father and I was sayin' only yesterday 
how good it seemed to have a young face about the place. 
You see, my dear, it makes us think of — what might 
have been. 

Laura. What might have been? Oh, did you have 
a httle girl of your own once? 

Mrs. B. Yes, my dear. We kept her till she was three 
years old. She'd have been just about your age now. 
{Wipes eyes) 

Laura. And is that why you and Mr. Brandon always 
call each other father and mother? 

Mrs. B. Yes, that's v/hy. {Short pause) 

Laura. My mother died when I was too little to 
remember her. 

Mrs. B. Poor child! poor child! 

Laura. You have no daughter, I have no mother; 
don't you think we might — play we've adopted each 
other? I — I want a mother so much sometimes. 

Mrs. B. Bless the child! I guess you don't want a 
mother any more than I want a daughter. 

Laura. Then it's a bargain? 

Mrs. B. I guess it is. {They embrace) But it's a 
better bargain for me than 'tis for you. 

Laura. Not a bit of it, for I'm going to take advantage 
of it immediately to ask you for some advice. 

Mrs. B. Land! What sort of advice? 

Laura. Well, it's about Sir Blashington Ingleby. 

Mrs. B. Do tell! So he's proposed? 

Laura. No, not yet, but of course I know he's going to. 

Mrs. B. a blind woman could see that. 

Laura. And I don't know whether to say yes or no. 



34 Where the Lane Turned 

Mrs. B. Well, child, I should think that depended 
on whether you loved him or not. 

Laura. But that's just what I'm not sure about. 

Mrs. B. Suppose you tell me the pros and cons of 
him. Sometimes talkin' a matter out will sort o' clear 
it up in your own mind. 

Laura. There aren't very many of either — that's 
what makes it hard to decide — but I'll give you the cons 
first. He's an Enghshman, for one thing, and I'd rather 
marry an American; then he's so slow and drawling — he 
doesn't seem to have any snap. Now for the pros: it 
would be lovely to be called Lady Ingleby and be pre- 
sented at court; he has a fine old country place in Sussex 
and a house in London, and — and if it wasn't for the cons 
I think I'd Uke him very much. 

Mrs. B. {slowly). H'm! Well, if I was you I wouldn't 
be in any hurry about makin' up my mind. I'd just let 
him dangle a while, and meebe somethin' will happen 
to help you decide. 

Laura. Perhaps that is good advice. 

Mrs. B. Now I must go and see what that Mary of 
yours is doin'. She can't boil water without burnin' it. 
And don't you worry about that Englishman, child. I've 
a notion there's the right sort of stuff behind his drawl. 

[EXIT L. D. 

Laura (slowly) . If she is right, and I — I hope she is — 
oh, I believe that is he coming now — yes, I am sure that 
is his step. (Hastily seats herself r. and affects carelessness, 
Algernon puts his head in window) 

Als. Say Miss Fernley, where's ma? 

Laura (starting). Oh, is that you, Algernon? 

Alg. (disgustedly). No, it ain't me, Algernon. It's me, 
Thomas A. Smith. 

Laura (laughing). Oh, excuse me. Come in, Thomas 
A. Smith. 

ENTER Algernon c. d. 

Alg. Say, I didn't mean to be fresh, Miss Fernley, 
but; honest, that Algernon song-and-dance makes me 



Where the Lane Turned 36 

tired. I have to stand it from ma but I draw the Une 
at the rest of the bunch. 

Laura. I don't blame you, Tommie; I should think 
you would rather be called like your father. By the way, 
your mother just told me that your father isn't coming 
up over Sunday. 

Alg. No, he had a carload of beef come in and had 
to stay and 'tend to it. 

Laura. A carload of beef! Why, what has a stock- 
broker to do with beef? 

Alg. Stock-broker nothing' ! Central must have given 
you the wrong number. Pa's a butcher on Third Avenue. 

Laura. A butcher! Why, your mother told me he 
dealt in stock. 

Alg. (loyally). Well — well, beef is stock before it's 
beef, ain't it? 

Laura. 0-oh! I suppose so. 

Alg. Say, look here. Miss Fernley, I guess I've queered 
ma's game. Be a dead game sport now and don't give 
me away, will you? 

Laura (laughing). All right, Tommie, I'll be as mum 
as a munmiy. 

Alg. You're the goods, you are, all wool and a yard 
wide. So long! [EXIT c. d. 

Laura (still laughing a little). A butcher! Well, I 
suppose she moves in the best society — on Third Avenue." 
(ENTER Sir Blashington c. d. unnoticed) No, indeed, 
my dear boy, I won't give you away. 

Sir B . Aw — delighted to hear it — so much rather you'd 
keep me, don't you know. 

Laura (in confusion) . Sir Blashington ! Oh, I — I didn't 
mean you. (He sits beside her on couch) 

Sir B. Really now, that's too bad, you know. I er — 

Laura (hastily). You were about to ask how father 
is, I know. He is much better and I think we shall be 
able to leave here next week. It's awfully good of you. 
Sir Blashington, to stay here with us when you might be 
enjoying yourself in New York. 

Sir B. But I'm enjoying myself jolly well here, don't 
you know. I — er — 



36 Where the Lane Turned 

Laura. Are you, really? What do you i&nd to do in 
Mapleville? 

Sir B. Well, yesterday, I went over to Circuit Field 
to see a ball-game between Mapleville and Northington. 
Very interesting, but not at all like cricket, don't you 
know. 

Laura. What was the score? 

Sir B. Aw — I heard a chap say something about 
nineteen to three. Was that the score? 

Laura. Of course — but in whose favor? 

Sir B. Well, really, now, I didn't ask. 

Laura. What else have you been doing? 

Sir B. One evening I took the tram to a jolly little 
pond they call Lake Pocahontas where there was a show. 

Laura. Was it a good show? 

Sir B. The music was good — they had Cox's orches- 
tra — and I fahncy the show was, too. Heard a chap be- 
hind me say they had the original two jokes that came out 
of the ark. 

Laura. You fancy? But didn't you see and hear the 
show yourself? 

Sir B. Well — er — you see, I sat behind a hat — prob- 
ably there was something under it but I didn't see it — 
and a young person who sat next me chewed gum so 
loudly that I — er — 

Laura (laughing). Poor man! How bored you must 
have been! 

Sir B. Yaas, it was a beastly bore, but I'd let myself 
in for a lot worse than that to be near you, don't you 
know. 

Laura. Would you really? Is it possible? 

Sir B. Aw, you're laughing at me, bah Jove. Why 
can't you ever take me seriously. Miss Fernley? 

Laura. Why, you haven't asked me to. 

Sir B. (aside). Now what does she mean by that? 
(Aloud) I say, Miss-ah, Miss Laura — I'm an awful 
duffer at talking, but I fahncy I'm not such a bad chap 
in some ways, don't you know, and I — er — I'm no end 
fond of you. (Wipes forehead) 

Laura. How very kind of you! 



t 



Where the Lane Turned 37 

Sir B. No, it isn't kind at all, because I — er — can't 
help it, don't you know. 

Laura. You mean you would help it if you could? 

Sir B. How you rag a chap, Miss Laura. No, I don't 
want to lielp it, but I — er — want you to be fond of 7ne, 
don't you know. 

Laura. Oh ! 

Sir B. Yaas. Fond enough of me to marry me, bah 
Jove ! {Sighs with relief and wipes forehead) 

Laura. Marry you? Oh, Sir Blashington, isn't this 
rather sudden? 

Sir B. Yaas, it is for me. But America is a rather 
sudden country and I seem to have caught the fever, 
bah Jove. 

Laura. Then perhaps you had better wait a while and 
see if you don't get over it. 

Sir B. Oh, I say. Miss Laura, let up on a poor chap, 
can't you? Don't you think you could — er — like me a 
little? 

Laura (frankly). I like you a great deal, Sir Blash- 
ington — • 

Sir B. {attempting to embrace her). Laura! 

Laura {eluding him). — but I'm not at all sure that I 
like you well enough to marry you. 

Sir B. {dejectedly). Oh, I say! 

Laura. And yet I'm not at all sure that I don't. 

Sir B. {delightedly). Oh, I say! 

Laura. You see, it depends a good deal on you. We 
American girls like to think the men we marry are heroes, 
who would be willing to lay down their lives for us if need 
be. 

Sir B. {dubiously). Yaas. (Aside) They don't seem 
to know it takes a hero to be willing to pay their bills. 

Laura. Well, if I were in some great danger — for 
instance, if you saw me about to cross the railroad track 
in Mapleville Center when a freight train was backing in 
unnoticed from the south, what would you do? 

Sir B. Why, I'd call to the crossing-tender to drop 
the gates. 

Laura (tartly, jumping up) . Yes, that's what I thought 



38 Where the Lane Turned 

you'd do. Thank you very much for the honor youVe 
done me, Sir Blashington Ingleby, but I don't care to 
marry that kind of a man. [EXIT r. 2 e. 

Sir B. (dazedly). Oh, I. say! Now she's gone off in 
a pet. I fahncy I must have made a beastly mess of it 
somehow, but I'm dashed if I know how. Well, I'll stroll 
about a while. Maybe she'll come back. [EXIT c. d. 

After short pause ENTER Fernley and Joyce r. 1 e. 
He is white and weak, limps and leans heavily on her. 

Joyce. I don't know what Dr. Austin will say to me 
for letting you leave your room, Mr. Fernley. You are 
hardly able to be out of bed. 

Fernley. I'll tell him I should have been worse rather 
than better if I had been obliged to stay in that room 
another hour. (Sits r.) I'm all right here, nurse; you 
go out and get some fresh air. And by the way, I thought 
I heard Mr. Brandon's voice just now; if you see him 
will you ask him to come in here? You needn't say I 
want to see him — I'll surprise him — just say there is 
some one here to see him. 

Joyce. Very well. [EXIT c. d. 

Fern. He wouldn't come if he knew the "someone" 
was I. He has avoided me — not once in the weeks I 
have lain in his house has he seen or spoken to me. If a 
wounded dog had crawled to his door he would have been 
kinder to it than to me. Perhaps I deserve his contempt, 
but it is hard to bear. (Short pause, head on hand) 

ENTER Brandon c. d., on seeing Fernley he stops. 

Fern, (raising head). Caleb! 

Bran. So it was you who sent for me, Jasper. 

Fern. Yes, Caleb. You wouldn't come to me, I 
couldn't come to you, and I had to see you. 

Bran, (grimly). You've got along pretty well without 
seein' me for quite a spell of years, Jasper. 

Fern. Not so well as you think, Caleb, for all those 
years have been shadowed by the memory of the wrong 



Where the Lane Turned 39 

I did you, and saddened by your unrelenting resentment 
of it. 

Bran. Resentment? Well, yes, I should say resent- 
ment wan't any too strong a word. Seems to me it ain't 
surprisin' that a man that's been robbed of his money, 
his chance in life and his best friend — by that friend — 
should feel some resentment. 

Fern. All that you say is true, Caleb, and its truth 
has come home to me in its full force in the weeks I have 
lain helpless under your roof with nothing to do but think. 
Can you imagine my feelings when, on regaining con- 
sciousness, I found myself lying in the same room where 
you and I slept that night? At first I thought it must 
be a dream, an illusion of my fevered brain, and when I 
reahzed that it was a fact, that fate had indeed thrown 
me helpless upon your hospitality — yours, of all men — 
well, Caleb, I think even you could hardly have wished 
me a keener punishment. 

Bran. Maybe so, Jasper, maybe so. But I never 
grudged you care or shelter. 

Fern. I loiow it, and that's what cuts. But though 
you gave me care and shelter, you refused to see me, 
refused, as you did years ago, to forgive me. And that's 
why I had to see you. I couldn't let another hour go by 
without one more attempt to heal the breach between us. 
I did you a great wrong, Caleb, but at least I tried to re- 
pair it. Remembering that, can't you forgive me, after 
all these years? 

Bran. Tried to repair it? How? What do you mean? 

Fern. Why, I mean the letter I sent you as soon as 
I reached New York. 

Bran. Letter? I never received any letter. 

Fern, (leaning forward). What! Do you mean to 
say that you never got the letter containing your hundred 
dollars? 

Bran. Never. Do you mean to say you sent my 
money back? 

Fern. Of course I did. I had plenty of time to think 
over in the train what I had done under the sudden temp- 
tation of a moment and I saw how wrong it was. As 



L 



40 Where the Lane Turned 

soon as I reached New York I wrote to you and begged 
you to forgive me and to join me in New York. I sent 
your money back in the letter. When you did not answer 
or come to New York, I supposed you were too angry to 
do so. And you never got the letter! All these years 
you have thought that I — oh, Caleb, Caleb, I wasn't so 
bad as that. 

Bran, {grasping Fernley's hand). I ought to have 
known it, Jasper, old chum. I ought to have known 
there was some mistake. I didn't mind the loss of the 
money so much as losin' my friend. To have you go back 
on me hke that, Jasper, was like havin' the bottom drop 
right out o' life. But it's all right now. You done the 
best you knew how to fix things right. I guess that old 
critter they call fate used us both kind o' hard. I swan, 
(Joyfully) I feel like a boy again now that tarnal mess is 
all straightened out. Say, Jas, remember the old swimmin' 
hole? You and me'll take a dip in there before you go. 

Fern. That's what we will, Cale; we'll do all the 
things we used to. Is it time for the Red Astrakhans to 
be ripe yet on that tree behind your barn? Those were 
the best apples I ever ate. 

Bran. They're just a-reddenin' up. They'll begin 
to drop in a few days. And the huckleberries are as thick 
as hops over in the south pasture this year. 

Fern. I'll bet I can pick more than you can in an 
hour if I am out of practice. I — oh, this confounded leg! 
{Sinks hack exhausted) 

Bran. Gosh! I clean forgot you was a sick man. 
You're all tuckered out. I guess I better git ye back to 
your room again. Here, lean on me, Jas. 

[EXEUNT both r. 1 e. 

RE-ENTER Brandon r. 1 e. 

Bran. I swan, Jasper ain't changed a mite. I didn't 
s'pose millionaires cared about such things as Red Astrak- 
hans and huckleberries. Well, well, I feel about thirty 
years younger'n I did when I come in. It's been a long 
lane, but it's turned at last. I guess I better go hunt up 



Where the Lane Turned 41 

that nurse o' Jasper's. {Looks out c. d.) Oh, here she 
comes now and the doctor with her. [EXIT l. d. 

ENTER Doctor and Joyce c. d. 

Joyce. I left Mr. Fernley here. He must have be- 
come tired and gone back to his room. {Goes r.) 

Dr. a. Joyce, wait. {She stops) Why do you so 
persistently avoid me? I have not seen you alone for a 
moment since — that night. 

Joyce. Need we discuss it? The conditions are un- 
changed; what more is there to be said? 

Dr. a. This; you say the conditions are unchanged; 
that is true, but — they are not unchangeable. 

Joyce. You mean — 

Dr. a. Free yourself from him — annul your marriage. 
It was the merest farce; no court in the land would hold 
you bound by it. 

Joyce. If I had only known that then! But now — it 
is too late. 

Dr. a. Too late? What do you mean? 

Joyce. You do not realize how desperate he is. W^hen 
he learned of my action he would — 

Dr. a. Have no fear, dear heart, you shall be pro- 
tected. 

Joyce. Ah, it is not for myself that I fear. 

Dr. a. What then? 

Joyce. Don't you understand? For you. So long 
as I make no move he mil make none, but if he knew 
that I had applied to have our marriage annulled he 
would kill — not me, but you. 

Dr. a. {grimly). Let him try it. 

Joyce. No, no! I tell you you do not know him. He 
is a fiend and would hesitate at nothing. You would 
be called at midnight to some pretended patient on a 
lonely and ill-lighted street; suddenly a form would spring 
upon you — a knife would gleam — {She shudders) you 
would have no chance. 

Dr. a. And to save me from this possibihty you 
would remain bound to such a wretch? You shall not 



4^ Where the Lane Turned 

so sacrifice the happiness of us both. Forewarned is fore- 
armed, and I will take the risk. 

Joyce. The risk of sacrificing your life and my happi- 
ness? The one is bound up in the other, Roger. 

Dr. a. {springing to her side). Joyce! 

Joyce. Yes it is true. My fife must be desolate, but 
so long as you are somewhere in the world it will not be 
quite a desert, 'though life us do part." (He turns away 
with a groan) You see, our arguments have described 
a circle and we are back at the point whence we started — 
there is nothing more to be said. 

Dr. a. It is a hideous circle. Is there no way out? 

Joyce. I can see none; but let us not despair, perhaps 
somewhere the lane will turn. 

Dr. a. And when it does, though it be fifty years 
from now, I shall be waiting for you at the turning with 
open arms. Remember that, Joyce. 

Joyce. Yes, Roger. And now our patient needs us. 
(Goes R.) 

Dr. a. One moment, I am forgetting the real purpose 
of my coming, which was to warn you. I am sure that 
I have seen Grafton about, though he tries to keep out 
of my sight. I fear he is planning some new villainy. I 
cannot bear to leave you here, exposed to his murderous 
designs. 

Joyce. Have no fear; he will not harm me and I shall 
take good care that he does not harm Mr. Fernley. But 
I am glad you warned me for now I shall be more than 
ever on my guard. Come. [EXEUNT both R. 1 e. 

ENTER Laura r. 2 e. 

Laura. What, no one here? I wonder where — ^well, 
never mind, I'll sit down and wait for Gassaway. (Sits 
L. c. in high-hacked chair turned slightly toward l.) I 
wonder if I was too discouraging to Sir Blashington? 
(Pause) Well, I don't care; if he's so easily discouraged 
as that he isn't worth having. He ought to know that 
''faint heart never won — ahem — never will win me." And 
yet I believe, I really do believe I should love him — if he 



Where the Lane Turned 43 

only had more snap. (Yawns) The heat makes me 
sleepy. (Leans hack in chair and gradually goes to sleep) 

ENTER Grafton cautiously, c. d. He does not see Laura. 

Graf. The coast is clear. Luck gives me one more 
chance. Now to get the lay of the land. That must be 
Fernley's room {Indicates r. 1 e.) Ha! I was foiled in my 
attempt on your life (Shakes fist) but this time I strike at 
something nearer and dearer than life — and I shall suc- 
ceed. (Goes L.) The kitchen. (Goes toward r. 2 e. As 
he passes c. d. Algernon sticks his head in at the window 
and looks around. He starts as he sees Grafton) 

Alg. Gee! If there ain't the guy that got fresh with 
the pop-gun! What's his game this time, I wonder? (He 
draws hack slightly from window and watches) 

Graf, (coming hack r. c. after looking off r. 2 e.). A 
hall with stairway leading to the rooms above, as I thought. 
Very good. Now everything is ready for to-night. Kid- 
napping is dangerous business but my plans are well laid. 
(Shakes fist at r. 1 e.) You monster, you have been 
the cause of my ruin, now you shall recoup my fortunes. 
(Turns l. and sees Laura; starts violently) What! The 
girl herself! Ah, she's asleep. Gad! What a start she 
gave me! Ah, ha! my pretty bird, you shall soon sleep 
in a cage far away from here and wake to beat your dainty 
hands against its bars in vain. No key but a golden one 
shall unlock that cage. You ought to be worth a cool 
half-milhon to your distracted father, eh? And to-night 
shall see me well on the way to that half-million. (A 
sudden thought strikes him) To-night? Why not now? 
Why not grasp the hand fortune holds out to me? By 
all the powers, I'll do it! To be sure, it's daylight, but I 
saw no one about when I came in and the automobile 
waits close by with my two men. The trap is set, I'll 
spring it now. (Bends over Laura) She'll surely sleep ten 
minutes longer, and that is all I'll need. I'll send the men. 

Alg. Holy smoke ! (He vanishes) 

Graf. Sleep well, my dear. [EXIT c. d. 

Laura (gradually wakes, ruhs eyes, etc.). Dear me, I 



44 Where the Lane Turned 

must have been asleep. Hasn't Gassaway returned yet? 
How slow he is! I believe I'll get my parasol and go for 
a stroll. {Looks about) Strange! There is no one here, 
yet I thought I heard someone speak. I rnust have 
dreamed it. [EXIT r. 2 e. 

ENTER Mrs. Smythe, after a short pause, c. d. 

Mrs. S. I couldn't find Algernon anywhere. I thought 
I saw him running around the corner of the house just 
now, but he didn't stop when I called so I must have been 
mistaken. How cool it is in here after the heat outdoors. 
I believe I'll rest a little while. {She sits in chair Laura 
occupied and goes to sleep) 

ENTER two ruffians cautiously, one carrying light cash- 
mere shawl. They furtively approach chair where Mrs. 
Smythe sleeps, throw shawl over her head and twist it round. 
They lift her and carry her toward c. d. She struggles and 
emits muffled shrieks. As they near door it opens violently 
and Sir Blashington rushes in, followed by Algernon. 

Sir B. Hi, there! you bloody blackguards! Drop that 
lady! {He attacks ruffians fiercely. They try to retaliate, 
Algernon dances around) 

Alg. Give it to 'em, Johnnie Bull! I'll bet on you! 
{Ruffians set Mrs. Smythe down. She stands plucking at 
shawl and shrieking. After a short but fierce encounter Sir 
Blashington roiits ruffians, who escape by c. d. door just 
as Doctor and Joyce rush on from r. 1 e. and Mrs. Bran- 
don and Marie from l.) 

Dr. a. What is it? What's the matter? 

Sir B. {panting). A — couple — of — blokes — tried to — 
kidnap — Miss Fernley. 

Dr. a. Kidnap Miss Fernley! {He and Joyce ex- 
change glances. Joyce goes to Mrs. Smythe and removes 
shawl) 

ENTER Laura r. 2 e. Sir Blashington staggers back 
dumb-founded. Algernon stares. 

Alg. Gee! It's ma! 



Where the Lane Turned 46 

Sir B. Oh, I say! Mrs. Smith! 

Mrs. S. (furiously). Smythe, sir! This is a pretty 
way to treat a lady in the best society! Oh ! Oh! Oh! 

[She rushes off n. 2 e. 

Laura. What in the world has happened? 

Alg. Why, you see, Miss Fernley, a couple of toughs 
was goin' to kidnap you but Lord Johnnie Bull lit into 'em 
like a million sledge-hammers and sent 'em pikin' and then 
we found out they'd swiped ma instead of you by mistake. 

Sir B. (feebly). Yaas, bah Jove. Made a blooming 
ass of myself, as usual. 

Laura. You attacked two men single-handed and put 
them to flight because you supposed they were kidnapping 
me? Oh, Blashington! You are a hero! I adore you! 
I will marry you, indeed I will ! (She rushes to Sir Blash- 
ington who clasps her in his arms) 

Sir B. (blissfully). Oh, I say! 

Laura and Sir Blashington. 
Algernon. Marie. 

Dr. Austin and Joyce. Mrs. Brandon. 

CURTAIN 



ACT IV. 

Scene. — Home of Jasper Fernley in New York. An 
evening six months later. Sofa l. and other handsome 
furnishings at will. Mr. and Mrs. Brandon DIS- 
COVERED seated on sofa. Doors c. r. and l. 

Bran. I swan, mother, I don't believe I'd get to feel 
at home in this palace of Jasper's, not if I had to live here 
a year. 

Mrs. B. Nor me, either, father. We've been here a 
week now, and I declare, I can't find my way around 
yet. Only to-day I got lost goin' from our room to the 
preservatory. What they call it that for I can't tell you, 
for there ain't any canned fruit there, nothin' but a lot 



46 Where the Lane Turned 

of plants, and not even a real handsome geranium among 
them. 

Bran. The's a good many things in New York that's 
some different from Maple ville; and one of 'em is this 
bein' dressed up all the time. I can stand a stiff collar 
to go to church in at home, but to wear the blamed thing 
all the time makes my neck sore. {Runs finger around 
collar) And I fairly hanker after a pair of overalls and 
felt boots. 

Mrs. B. I brought a gingham apron with me and 
offered to help Laura do up her work, but she just laughed 
and kissed me and said the maids wouldn't like to be 
interfered with, so I ain't had a chance to wear it and I 
do feel lost without it. 

Bran. I guess you and me never was cut out for city 
life, mother. I never felt so lonesome in my hfe as I did 
to-day when Jasper left me alone a minute on the side- 
walk in front o' the Flatiron Buildin'. The' was a slew o' 
folks comin' and goin', all in a dreadful hurry, but if I'd 
been alone in the middle o' the forty-acre pasture at home 
'twould have seemed a lot more sociable. I sort o' sus- 
picioned how 'twould be, but Jasper was so set on havin' 
us visit him here this winter that I couldn't say no. 

Mrs. B. And Laura declared she wouldn't be married 
if we didn't come to the weddin'. Well, that'll be day 
after to-morrow, and the next day I guess we better go 
home. 

Bran. So we will, mother, so we will. 

ENTER Fernley, c. d. 

Fern. What's that I hear about your going home, 
Caleb? Why, I shan't let you go for a month yet; you 
haven't seen half the sights. 

Bran. Well, you see, Jasper, I got Ed. Heck to do the 
chores for me while I was gone, and if anybody come along 
and he started to talk to 'em it'd be milkin' time at night 
before he'd fed the critters their breakfast. So I feel as 
if I'd better go home and tend to things. But we've had 
a real good time. 



Where the Lane Turned 47 

Fern. Well, of course, if you feel that you must go I 
won't try to keep you. So perhaps this is the best time 
to mention a little business matter that I want to attend 
to before you go home. 

Bran. Business, Jasper? 

Fern. Yes, Caleb, about that hundred dollars, you 
know. 

Bran. No, I don't know nothing about any hundred 
dollars and don't want to. It's all forgot. 

Fern. I can well believe that to your generous soul 
it is the same as forgotten. But not so to me. I did not 
speak of what I am about to tell you in the summer, be- 
cause I had not then reached the goal I had set for myself. 
But now my transactions are complete, Caleb, when 
you did not join me in New York I made up my mind 
that in some way I would make restitution to you. After 
some thought I decided upon a way. As soon as I could 
save it, I took a hundred dollars of my own money and 
invested it in your name. The investment prospered 
and netted 75% gain. Again I invested the total amount 
and again it was largely increased. I continued the same 
process for years, and always with a success that seem-ed 
magical. Never has an investment of that fund failed 
to return a large per cent of profit. And now I turn it 
over to you, Caleb. Here is a check for the full amount 
of what for thirty-four years I have called the Caleb 
Brandon Fund. 

Bran, {rising excitedly). I won't touch it, Jasper. It 
don't belong to me, not even the original sum, for that 
you sent back. No, Jasper, it's your brains and your 
work that made it, and the money's yours. 

Fern. But don't you see, Caleb, that but for that one 
wrong act of mine, you would have had the same chance 
that I had, the chance to make far more than this. For 
years it has been my one justification of myself that I 
was doing what I could to make restitution to you. ^ If 
you refuse now to accept this sum you will be inflicting 
upon me a disappointment and a punishment even greater 
than my boyish fault deserves, and depriving me of the 
satisfaction of feeUng that you have really forgiven me. 



48 Where the Lane Turned 

For until you accept this I am not cleared of my fault in 
my own eyes. {He holds out check. Brandon hesitates) 

Mrs, B. I don't want you should do what ain't square 
an' honest, father, but it sounds all right to me, and if 
it's goin' to hurt his feelin's to have you refuse, I guess 
you better take it. 

Bran. Well, mother, I'll do as you say. (Takes check) 
What! Why, Jasper! This is a check for fifty thousand 
dollars ! 

Mrs. B. Father! 

Fern. I only wish it was more, Caleb! 

Bran. But — why — why, I never dreamed it was so 
much. Fifty thousand dollars! I can't take it! 

Fern, (laughing). You have taken it, Caleb, and you 
can't go back on your word. 

Bran. Jasper! Jasper, old chum! How can I ever 
thank you? (They grasp hands) 

Fern. By letting the money make life easy and pleas- 
ant for you and your good wife, Caleb. Now I'm going 
to see if I can't find Laura and my son-in-law-to-be. 

[EXIT c. D. 

Bran, (sinking on sofa). Fifty thousand dollars! It 
seems Uke a dream. Mother, why don't ye say somethin'? 

Mrs. B. Because I'm afraid if I do I'll wake up. Oh, 
father, think of the things we can do with all that money, 
things we've always wanted to do and couldn't afford to. 

Bran. I am thinkin', mother. I'm goin' to have an 
engyne to saw up my wood, an' a plow I can ride on an' 
a new chicken house an'— an' — ^what be you goin' to buy, 
mother? 

Mrs. B. I'm going to have me one o' them new-fangled 
machines that sucks the dirt right out o' carpets, an' a 
black silk dress, an' — an' I'm goin' into Ryker's and buy 
all the pretty dishes I want! An' — father — 

Bran. Yes, mother, what else? 

Mrs. B. I want to get a handsome monnyment for 
little Susie. There's only a little headstone, you know, 
an' I want a nice white marble monnyment vAih. a lamb 
on top of it. I know lambs are kind of old-fashioned but 
I always did like 'em. 



Where the Lane Turned 49 

Bran. We'll do it, mother, the very first thing. (The 
eyes of both fill with tears) 

ENTER Laura and Sir Blashington c. d. 

Laura. Why, Auntie Brandon! Uncle Brandon! 
What are you crying about? 

Mrs. B. I guess it must be because we're so happy, 
child. 

Sir B. Aw, I say! Rum go, that. 

Laura. ''Rum go"? What does that mean, Blashie? 

Sir B. Why — er — it means — ah — well, a novel situa- 
tion, don't you know. 

Laura. Oh, I see; just about the same as 'Hhe limit" 
in United States. 

Sir B. I fahncy so, yaas. 

Laura. You see, Blashie is teaching me English, so 
I'll understand the language in my new home. And that 
reminds me that Blashie and I have a favor to ask of you. 

Bran. There ain't much mother and I wouldn't do 
for you. What is it? 

Laura. It is — that you will both promise to visit us 
next summer at Ingleby Manor. 

Sir B. Yaas, you really must, you know. 

Mrs. B. Why-ee! That's in England, ain't it? 

Laura (laughing). Of course. Father is coming over 
then and you can come with him without a bit of care or 
trouble about it. 

Mrs. B. (hesitating). But I'm afraid we can't afford — 

Bran. Yes, we can, mother — now. Laura, child, 
well come. 

Laura. Oh, I'm so glad! (Hugs Mrs. Brandon) 

Sir B. Chawmed, 'pon honor. (Shakes hands with 
Brandon) 

Laura. And now I have a little surprise for you. 

Bran. We're gettin' used to surprises. What is it 
this time? 

Laura. I have invited Dr. Austin, Mrs. Smi-Smythe 
and Tommie and Miss Carmody to come this evening 
so we will all be together again as we were last summer. 



60 Where the Lane Turned 

Mrs. B. Why, that'll be real nice. 

Laura. And unless I am mistaken I hear Mrs. Smythe 
speaking to the butler now. {Goes to c. d.) Yes, here 
she is, and Tommie too. (ENTER Mrs. Smythe and 
Tommie) I am so glad to see you both; come right in 
and see Mr. and Mrs. Brandon. (Mrs. Smythe goes l. 
to Mr. and Mrs. Brandon. They shake hands and talk 
in pantomime.) 

Laura. Are you pretty well, Tommie? 

Alg. Sure. Hullo, Johnnie Bull. 

Sir B. Aw — how are you, old chap? {They shake) 

Mrs. S. Algernon! You shouldn't be so familiar 
when you're in the best society. 

Alg. Oh, prunes! 

Laura. Don't reprove him, Mrs. Smythe. I feel 
that we owe a great deal to Tommie's presence of mind. 

Mrs. S. How is that? 

Laura. Did no one ever tell you that it was he who 
discovered the plot to kidnap me and called Sir Blash- 
ington? 

Mrs. S. No, indeed. How strange that I was never 
told! But I was too upset to care to discuss that trying 
incident. Algernon, my son, from what a fate may you 
not have saved your fond mother! How can I show my 
gratitude? {Tries to embrace Algernon. He draws away) 

Alg. Aw, cut out the slush, ma. But say, if you want 
to do the handsome thing, we'll call it square if you'll' 
just lemon off that Algernon business and call me Tommie. 

Mrs. S. {sighing). Well — it's frightfully plebeian and 
quite unsuited to the best society but if I must — Tommie 
it shall be. 

Alg. Hooray ! 

Laura. And now I want you all to come and see my 
wedding presents. A lot of new ones came this afternoon. 

[EXEUNT ALL R. D. 

After short pause Marie looks cautiously in at c. d. 
ENTERS, tiptoes to r. and looks off, then goes to c. and 
beckons off l. Gassaway ENTERS cautiously l. d. 

Marie. Zey have gone ze presents of ze wedding to 



Where the Lane Turned 61 

see. I thought you like for see zat blue dress mademoiselle 
give me for stay in zat Mapleveele wiz her. You like 
heem, eh? 

Gas. I Hke you in any dress, Marie, but you sure are 
a winner upholstered in blue. I haven't had hardly a 
glimpse of you since this wedding business began. {Slips 
arm around her waist) Say, Marie, there ain't any wed- 
ding interests me much except my own. 

Marie (demurely). You are going to be married zen? 

Gas. I sure am. 

Marie. When? 

Gas. That's for you to say. 

Marie {drawing away.) Me? What have I to do wiz 
your wedding? 

Gas. Why, there won't be any wedding if you're not 
there. 

Marie. But you forget — I go to England wiz Made- 
moiselle. 

Gas. Well, you needn't think you're the only one that 
can go to England. {Struts, thumbs in armholes of vest) 

Marie {staring). Moi — je ne comprends pas. 

Gas. Well, seein' it's you I'll let you into a dead 
secret. You see {Quietly slipping arm about her as he talks) 
those wedding presents upstairs aren't the whole show. 
The old man is going to give her another, but she don't 
know it yet. It's the last word in limousines, sixty-horse 
power, dual high-tension system, multiple-disc clutch, 
thermoid brakes, double jet carburettor, straight line 
shaft drive — and — now listen — he says he won't trust 
his daughter in anybody's care but mine so he's going to 
send me over to run it for her. Now the way I figure it 
out is this: you marry me to-morrow and we'll go to Eng- 
land on our honeymoon. See? 

Marie {tossing her head). I tink about him. 

Gas. {determinedhj) . Well, you think mighty quick 
then, for I'm going to know now. I won't stand anymore 
of this off and on business. Every time I throw into 
high speed you push out the clutch and put on the brakes. 
Now make up your mind — is it yes or no? {Steps and 
voices heard off c.) 



62 Where the Lane Turned 

Marie. Hist! Monsieur approach! I make up my 
mind elsewhere, my Speedmore. {She throws her arm 
around Gassa way's neck) [EXEUNT both l. d. 

ENTER Fernley, Joyce and Dr. Austin c. d. 

Fern. Well, well, we had begun to think that you two 
people were going to spoil our little party by not being here, 
as the Irishman said; when, behold! you arrive from op- 
posite directions at the same time. 

Dr. a. I am sorry to be late, Mr. Fernley, but a criti- 
cal case detained me. 

Joyce (demurely). I am sorry to be late, Mr. Fernley, 
but a critical case detained me. {All laugh) 

Fern. And with the same excuse. Well, well, we are 
lucky to get you busy people any time at all. We have 
hardly had a ghmpse of you since last summer. 

Joyce. For which you do not seem to be properly 
thankful. 

Fern. Thankful? Why, no. It's worth a broken 
leg any day to be able to monopolize the attention of a 
charming young lady. Eh, doctor? 

Dr. a. By all means. I'm thinking of breaking my 
own. 

Joyce. Don't expect me to nurse you. Doctors make 
the most unruly of patients. {They sit, Fernley c. Dr. 
Austin r., Joyce l.) 

Fern. But seriously, my dear young friends, I have 
never adequately expressed to you my appreciation of 
your faithful care of me last summer, for the reason that 
I did not wish you to know that I knew how faithful that 
care had been. (Dr. Austin and Joyce exchange swift 
glances) Yes, I know all, and now we can be frank with 
each other, for — Vincent Grafton died to-day. 

Dr a 1 

Joyce! j (^V^^^d^^Q ^P) • I^ead ! 

Fern, {rising). Yes. Let me explain. On the night 
he came to the Brandon house you thought me delirious, 
and so I was. But my delirium was interspersed with 
short periods of almost supernormal lucidity, when every 



Where the Lane Turned - 63 

sense seemed quickened to twice its normal power. Dur- 
ing these periods, each of which lasted but a few minutes, 
I gathered fragments of what took place in the room 
where you were, including Grafton's name. These frag- 
ments made so vivid an impression on my mind that sub- 
sequent delirium did not erase them and in the long hours 
of my convalescence I pieced them together and became 
possessed of the main facts of your sad story, Miss Car- 
mody, and of your heroic protection of me. As soon as 
possible I gave orders to have Grafton hunted down and 
quietly shadowed. He fled to Canada and for months 
did not dare return to New York. But at last he ven- 
tured back and was promptly arrested on charge of em- 
bezzlement. Or rather, he would have been arrested 
for w^hen the officers forced their way into his room he 
had committed suicide. (Pause) Now this has been 
something of a shock to you both and you will be glad 
of a few moments to recover; so I am going to find the 
rest of our Httle party and we will rejoin you presently. 
(At door he pauses and looks hack at them a moment, smiling 
under standingly) [EXIT r. d. 

Dr. a. i^after slight pause). Joyce! 

Joyce. Yes. 

Dr. a. Do you remember how you prophesied that 
the lane would turn? 

Joyce. Yes. 

Dr. a. And how I told you that I would be waiting 
for you at the turning with open arms? 

Joyce. Yes — Roger. 

Dr. a. (holding out his arms). Joyce — come! (She 
looks up, hesitates, then moves swiftly toward him as he ad- 
vances to meet her) 

CURTAIN 



COAST FOLKS 

A Rural Drama in Five Acts, by GEORGE M. ROSENER 

Price, 25 Cents 



Seven male, five female characters. Two scenes, one interior, one 
exterior. Time, 2H hours. The scene is laid at a light-house on a rocky 
cliff near a fishing village. The plot is original and skilfully developed; a 
true picture of coast life, with intensely dramatic "situations" and a thrilling 
tragic episode leading up to an unexpected climax. A scheming doctor and 
his unscrupulous hireling, a young girl's appalling sacrifice, the startling 
fate of the plotters, and the simple life of the fishermen, offer fine scope 
for individual portraiture. The characters are all kept well in view of the 
audience in each of the acts. 

CHARACTERS 

Tom Manly, a sailor Lead 

Bill Long, a fisherman Character 

Parson Thorndike, a minister Juvenile 

Ben Jordan, the light-house keeper Heavy 

Doctor Carlton, a physician Heavy 

Joseph Winslow, a fisherman Comedy 

Dan Crane, Winslow's chum Comedy 

Jess Long, Bill Long's daughter Lead 

Faith, a cripple Ingenue 

Priscilla Winslow, Joseph's wife. Character 

Eliza Long, Bill Long's wife Character 

Jane, Long's maid-servant Soubrette 



ISABEL, THE PEARL OF CUBA 

A Melodrama in Four Acts, by CHARLES TOWNSEND 

PRICE 25 CENTS 

CHARACTERS 

CoRRY Chase A reporter for the "New York Herald" 

Colonel Torreno A Spanish officer 

Manuel Valdez A Cuban Insurgent leader 

Old Valdez Manuel's father 

Danny Phelan Corry's companion 

Pedro A faithful servant 

Sergeant Jones Of the U. S. Army 

Two Soldiers In Manuel's Cuban Contingent 

Isabel Roberts The Pearl of Cuba 

VioLETTA. A jealous Cuban 

NoRAH Isabel's servant 

Time of Playing — 254 Hours. 
SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS 

Act I. — At the American Consulate, Havana, Feb. i, 1898. Love and 
jealousy. An Irishman's opinion. The "Herald" reporter. The insult. 
A surprised Spaniard. "First blood for Uncle Sam!" 

Act II. — At the Roberts mansion the next morning. A proposal. The 
death of Valdez. A cunning falsehood. Irish wit. Saved. A new danger. 
A moment of suspense. Striking tableau. 

Act III. — In the mountains, a week later. Plotting and planning. An 
unexpected arrival. Corry and Danny in the toils. The Spaniard and 
Cuban join hands. The price of a life. Yankee pluck. Tableau. 

Act IV. — Room in a house in Havana, Feb. 15, 1808. A fiendish 

{)lan. "I'll send the Maine to the bottom of the harbor.'' Preparing to 
eave. "Off for Key West to-night." An understanding. The Spaniard's 
revenge. Destruction of the battle-ship. Death of Torreno. "And Uncle 
9am will remember the Maine." 



OAK FARM 

COMEDY DRAMA IN THREE ACTS 

By ANTHONY E. WILLS 
PRICE 25 CENTS 

Seven male, four female characters, being first old man, leading man, 
comedy, character heavy, three comedy characters; first old lady, leading 
lady and two lady comedy characters. Time of playing, 2j^ hours. 

SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS. 

Act I. — Scene, room in the Weatherby home. Oak Farm. Donald 
departs for college. The farm mortgaged. Donald and Helen betrothed. 
The rain agent. Joel and Sally. Prune, postmaster and money lender. 

Act II. — Scene, the same, three years later. The intercepted letters. 
"Why does not Donald write?" The old maid's suitors. Prune's rascality. 
The mortgage due. 

Act III. — Same scene, two months later. Prune unmasked. The old 
maid's stratagem. The stranger's offer declined. "I am Donald." Joy at 
Oak Farm. 



ESCAPED FROM THE LAW 

COMEDY DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS 

By C. WALCOTT RUSSELL 

PRICE 25 CENTS 

Seven male, five female characters. The owner of a factory, his super- 
intendent, a French scientist, a physician, an English kbor agitator, gardener 
and butler. The owner's wife and daughter, his partner's widow, a maid- 
servant, a neighbor and a policeman. A labor agitator's plot to promote a 
strike and burn the owner's house. Time of playing, 2J4 hours. 3 interior 
and I exterior scenes. 

SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS. 

Act I. — Morning. The Irishman and the anarchist. The doctor recog- 
nizes and exposes the woman from Martinique. 

Act II. — Evening. A wife's confession. Flight. 

Act III. — Three weeks later. The dying child. One of Nature's noble- 
men. The plot to burn the factory. "Your silence or your life." 

Act IV. — The widow and the superintendent. The house surrounded 
by rioters. The telegraph message. The wires cut. 

Act V. — A wife's sacrifice and husband's remorse. The rioters dis- 
persed. Home and love once more. 



GOLDEN GULCH 

A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS 

By CHARLES TOWNSEND 

PRICE 25 CENTS 

Eleven male, three female characters, including a gentleman outlaw, a 
scout, a hotel landlord, a pugilist, a Western tough, a sly Chinaman, a 
cullud politician, a Jew peddler, a sanctimonious reformer, a Western mad- 
cap girl, a strong-minded woman and a Yankee old maid. Time of playing, 
254 hours. The action is in the Wild West, with wide diversity of char- 
acters and dramatic incident, and requiring only two easily staged scenes. 

SYNOPSIS OF INCIDENTS. 

Act I. — The Golden Gulch hotel. A musical Chinaman. "Annie 
Rooney." The festive dude and the negro politician. The Jew peddler. 
Gentleman George makes a purchase. Jess and the outlaw. Frank and 
Naggle compare notes. Old acquaintances. A warning. The dude on his 
muscle. The card-sharper. The tract distributor. The game begins. Frank 
takes a hand. "Hands up! I hold a trump card!" "I hold another!" 

Act II. — Among the hills. Time, the next morning. Ireland and Africa 
at war. A big scare, and nobody hurt. The missionary makes a trial. 
"Big fool! Wah!" The false message. The robbery. Old Ikey in the 
toils. The dude investigates and strikes a hard customer. A villainous 
scheme. The accusation of murder. "Stand back! It's my turn now!" 

Act III. — At the hotel, one hour later. Active prohibition. Toots and 
O'Gooligan on a bender. The Chinese way. The smashed up missionary. 
Toots makes an offer. Frank a prisoner. Judge O'Gooligan opens court. 
Getting a jury. The judge presents the case. Some tough evidence. The 
verdict. The end of "Gentleman George." Finale. 



^he JjilL BIRD 

A DRAMA IN FIVE ACTS 
By CHARLES TOWNSEND 

PRICE 25 CENTS 

Seven male, two female characters. Leading juvenile man, character 
heavy, comedy, low comedy, walking gentleman, utility man. Leading lady, 
old woman comedy, soubrette. Time of playing, 2j^ hours. New in treat- 
ment, arousing sympathy and merriment throughout. No difficult scenes. 

SYNOPSIS OF INCIDE.NTS. ^ , 

Act I. — Scene, a room in Isaacs' concert hall. The detective and the 
crook. A profitable deal. Donovan and Isaacs compare notes. The counter- 
feit money. Matt and Donovan. Jennie. Homeless and friendless. The 
insult. The Jew learns a lesson. Arrested. 

Act II. — Time, two years later. Scene, Jennie Foster's rooms in Mrs. 
Babbleton's lodging house. Matt's letter. Matt's arrival. Prison experi- 
ence. Bob "blows in." A specimen of the New York "kid." Matt refunds 
the money. Denham, the broker. Sunshine ahead. 

Act III. — A lapse of six months. Scene, ante-room in Denham's office. 
Matt's advice. Mrs. Babbleton investigates. Darby's discovery. Donovan 
in hot water. A cunning rascal. Discharged. 

Act IV. — Six months later. Scene, the concert hall again. Planning 
a robbery. The last chance. Husband and wife. Jennie's faith. Bob 
on a "bender." The swindlers. Hunted down. Matt's desperation, 
Matt's cunning. Foiled! Striking tableau. 

Act V. — Half an hour later. Scene, Denham's office. Darby speaks 
his mind. Laying the train. Matt asserts himself. A thrilling struggle. 
Victory! Finale. 




^SS$$SS$$SSS$$SSS$SSSSSSS8SSS$SSS$ 




MILITARY PLAYS 

25 CENTS EACH 

M. 

BY THE ENEMY'S HAND. 4 Acts; 2 hours 10 

ED^VARDS, THE SPY. 5 Acts; 2}4 hours 10 

PRISONER OF ANDERSONVILLE, 4 Acts; 2>4 hours.. 10 

CAl^TAIN DICK, a Acts; 1}4 hours 9 

ISABEL, THE PEARL OF CUBA. 4 Acts; 2 hours 9 

LITTLE SAVAGE. 3 Acts; 2 hours; 1 Stage Setting 4 

BY FORCE OF IMPULSE. (15 cents.) 5 Acts; 2}^ hours 9 
BETWEEN TWO FIRES. (15 cents.) 3 Acts; 2 hours 8 



RURAL PLAYS 

25 CENTS EACH 

MAN FROM MAINE. 5 Acts; 2^4 hours 9 3 

AMONG THE BERKSHIRES. 3 Acts; 2J4 hours 8 4 

OAK FARM. 3 Acts; 21^ hours; 1 Stage Setting 7 4 

GREAT ^VINTERSON MINE. 3 Acts; 2 hours 6 4 

SQUIRE THOMPKINS' DAUGHTER. 5 Acts; 2^ hours 5 2 

WHEN A MAN'S SINGLE. 3 Acts; 2 hours 4 4 

FROM PUNKIN RIDGE. (15 cents.) 1 Act; Ihour... 6 3 

LETTER FROM HOME. (15 cents.) 1 Act; 25 minutes 1 1 



ENTERTAINMENTS 

25 CENTS EACH 

AUNT DINAH'S QUILTING PARTY. 1 Scene 5 11 

BACHELOR MAIDS' REUNION. 1 Scene 2 30 

IN THE FERRY HOUSE. 1 Scene; IJ^ hours 19 15 

JAPANESE WEDDING. 1 Scene; 1 hour 3 10 

MATRIMONIAL EXCHANGE. '3 Acts; 2 hours 6 9 

OLD PLANTATION NIGHT. 1 Scene; 1^ hours 4 4 

YE VILLAGE SKEWL OF LONG AGO. 1 Scene. 13 IS 

FAMILIAR FACES OF A FUNNY FAMILY 8 11 

JOLLY BACHELORS. Motion Song or Recitation 11 

CHRISTMAS MEDLEY. 30 minutes 15 14 

EASTER TIDINGS. 20 minutes 8 

BUNCH OF ROSES. (15 cents.) 1 Act; li^ hours 1 13 

OVER THE GARDEN AVALL. (15 cents) 11 8 




DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers, 18 Ann Street, N. Y. 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



016 102 811 3 

COMEDIES AND DRAMAS 

25 CENTS EACH 

M. P. 

BREAKING HIS BONDS. 4Act6;2hours 6 3 

BUTTERNUT'S BRIDE. 3 Acts; SJ^ hours 11 6 

COLLEGE CHUMS. 3 Acts; 2 hours; 1 Stage Setting 9 3 

COUNT OF NO ACCOUNT. 3 Acta; 2i^ hours 9 4 

DEACON. 5 Acts; 21^ hours 8 6 

DELEGATES EROM DENTER. 2 Acts; 45 minutes 3 10 

DOCTOR BY COURTESY. 3Acte;2hour8 6 5 

EASTSIDERS, The. 3 Acts; 2 hours; 1 Stage Setting 8 4 

ESCAPED FROM THE LAW. 5 Acts; 2 hours 7 4 

GIRL FROM PORTO BICO. 3 Acts; 2^ hours 5 3 

GYPSY QUEEN. 4 Acts'; 2}4 hours 5 3 

IN THE ABSENCE OF SUSAN. 3 Acts; li^ hours 4 6 

JAILBIRD. 5 Acts; 21^ hours 6 3 

.JOSIAH'S COURTSHIP. 4 Acts; 2 hours 7 4 

MY LADY DARRELL. 4 Acts; 2}^ hours 9 6 

MY UNCLE FROM INDIA. 4 Acts; 2*^ hours 13 4 

NEXT DOOR. 3 Acts; 2 hours 5 4 

PHYLLIS'S INHERITANCE. 3 Acts; 2 hours 6 9 

REGVlAR FLIRT. 3 Acts; 2 hours..... 4 4 

ROGUE'S LUCK. 3Act8;2hour8 5 3 

SQUIRE'S STRATAGEM. 5 Acts; 2}^ hours 6 4 

STEEL KING. 4 Acts; 23^ hours 5 3 

AVHAT'S NEXT? 3 Acts; 2^ hours 7 4 

WHITE LIE. 4Act8; 2J^ hours 4 3 

WESTERN PLAYS 

25 CENTS EACH 

ROCKY FORD. 4Acts;2hours 8 3 

GOLDEN GULCH. 3 Acts; SJ^ hours 11 3 

RED ROSETTE. 3Acts; 2 hours 6 3 

MISS MOSHER OF COLORADO. 4 Acts; 2^ hours... 5 3 

STUBBORN MOTOR CAR. 3 Acts; 2 hours; 1 Stage Setting 7 4 

CRAWFORD'S CLAIM. (15 cents.) 3 Acts; 214 hours. 9 3 




DICK & FITZGERALD, Publishers, 18 Ann Street, N. Y. 



